


You're Beautiful

by LadyTauriel



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Female James T. Kirk, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender Issues, Genderbending, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 99,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTauriel/pseuds/LadyTauriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orphan Jennifer T. Kirk is a cadet at the Starfleet Academy with little awareness of what is happening in the world outside of her career path. Her twin brother, James T. Kirk, is set to join the hottest band in the Federation - StarKid, led by the cool Spock of Vulcan. When an unfortunate accident puts Jim out of commission for a month, the band's manager begs Jen to take his place - without the knowledge of the other band members. Though unwilling at first, Jen realises this is her chance to find their mother, who disappeared when they were born. As she tries to find her mother, she must also learn how to deal with emotions of love as she grows attached to the lonely Spock.</p><p>(Note: Jen Kirk <i>is</i> Fem!Kirk, female James T. Kirk, not an original character. She and her twin brother are essentially the same person, and they are never together at the same time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm back, guys! I'm well aware that I've kind of been abandoning my other Korean drama work, [The 1st Shop of Coffee Prince](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2223333/chapters/4877151), but worry not! I will return to it soon. I just have a lot more fun writing this one, since this is based on my favourite Korean drama ever, probably of all time. That being said, this fanfiction is based _completely_ on the Korean drama [You're Beautiful](http://www.hulu.com/youre-beautiful). Each chapter corresponds with an episode of the show. The summary of my fanfic is credited to the summary of the series on Hulu. I hope this fanfic inspires you to watch it. Even if you haven't and aren't interested in doing so, please consider reading and reviewing my work. I hope all of you will be just as excited for reading it, as I was for writing it! I have to infinitely thank [Dramabeans](http://www.dramabeans.com/?s=you%27re+beautiful) for summarising You're Beautiful so perfectly for me, so that I didn't have to re-watch every single episode to write this.
> 
> Also, if you're turning away, because of the female Jim (in this case Jen) T. Kirk, I urge you, I _beg_ you to give this work a chance. I hope that Jim remains in character, even as a female. Her being female is crucial to the fic, but even with a different gender, she is still the same person as the male Jim we all know and love (even with the twist that she has a male twin brother Jim T. Kirk, teehee).

Jen stretched out lazily on her tiny bunk, burrowing her face even farther into the pillow to hide her eyes from the assaulting sunlight. It might have been comfortable under different circumstances, but the current circumstances happened to include barely a few feet of sleeping space, a cooped up Starfleet-issued dorm, and a particularly noisy Orion roommate. Despite that, it was a relatively peaceful morning. 

When the thought hit her, Jen snapped up into a sitting position, wincing as her head hit the top bunk once again. There was no water running behind an open bathroom door, no obnoxiously loud singing; the light streaming in through the tiny window seemed brighter than usual. 

Jen checked the time. Oh eight thirty three, it said, which was later than the starting time of her morning class. She was late - _again_. 

A sticky note was attached to her bedside alarm, with Gaila's familiar messy cursive decorating it. Jen read it, groaning. 

_Jen, dear,_ it read, _I was going to wake you up for class like I always do, but even after ten different alarm tones, you hadn't moved a muscle. You didn't even turn any off, sleeping right through them. I can tell you're really tired - you fell asleep on your PADD last night, too, before I pushed you into bed. You said exams weren’t until in a couple of weeks, so just sleep in, okay? - Gaila xoxo_

Jen scrambled out of bed, cursing in Andorian. Her Academy exit exams were coming up at the end of the month, yes, but that didn't mean that she was off the hook for skipping class. She tried to be angry at Gaila for not bothering to push her out of bed, but she couldn't work up any hard feelings. Gaila cared for her health, and Jen was thankful for it. Still, it was unfortunate that Gaila hadn’t known anything about the third years' _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario test that was taking place today. It was something Jen couldn't miss. 

Today she was retaking the _Kobayashi Maru_ for the second time, desperately trying to increase her performance rate. Jen knew she needed to accept the fact that the test simulation was an unchangeable no-win scenario, since it was impossible to simultaneosly escape the neutral zone between the Federation and the Klingon Empire while keeping the ship intact and saving the members of the vessel. It was pointless for her to hope for a victory, but it was still possible to improve her general performance scores while assessing the situation and searching for a fair way to beat the system, without resorting to hacking into it and rewriting the programme. Even as a last resort, Jen did not want to fall back to cheating. 

She rushed into the testing quarters with her hair still undone, as opposed to the usual braid she wore to keep it out of her face. She was scheduled for the first simulation of the day, and thankfully it was only just about to begin. All of the cadets except her were now in their positions behind the observation glass. Dropping her bags, Jen rushed into the simulation room, taking her place in the centre seat on the bridge for the take. 

Christopher Pike's eyes narrowed as he stared at her through the observation glass. Jen feigned calmness by trying to slow her breathing, which just made her choke up more. 

"You're late, Cadet," Pike said tersely. 

“I’m sorry," Jen made out, trying and failing to keep her breathlessness unnoticed. 

"Just make sure you do your job right, and we wont have a problem," he responded. Jen could only nod vigorously. 

The simulation began. Jen took a deep breath to prepare herself for the assessment to come. 

"Starfleet Command has specifically ordered the USS _Trainer_ to rescue the USS _Kobayashi Maru_ from three attacking Klingon warbirds in the neutral zone,” she told her practice crew. 

"But Captain," said the cadet that was acting as first officer, "breaching the neutral zone would possibly lead to a fully fledged imminent attack on the _Trainer_ and would be a strict violation of the Treaty of Organia." 

"I am aware of the consequences of entering the neutral zone, Lieutenant," Jen responded with bitterness in her tone. 

As her eyes once again met Pike's, a spark flashed violently in the forefront of her mind, and she made a split second decision that surprised even her. She remembered her first attempt at the test, when she had frantically sent the _Trainer_ into the neutral zone and prepared to alert medical, only to be cut off from the distressed ship's communication systems. A few minutes afterwards, they has been completely obliterated by the three attacking Klingon warbirds. Now, frustration fumed within Jen, and she rubbed the silver band on her right finger to concentrate. Jen couldn’t send her ship to certain death again. The problem with the _Kobayashi Maru_ test was that certain death was never faced in life. There was always a chance of survival. 

In life, there was no such thing as a no-win scenario. 

"Which is why we are going to defy Starfleet Command's orders. We will not attempt the rescue mission of the _Kobayashi Maru_. Lieutenant, do not set the course for the Gamma Hydra," Jen finished. 

A stunned silence fell over the bridge. 

"We are defying Starfleet Command and allowing a crew of three hundred eighty one civilians to die," her first officer objected. 

"The mission is a pointless attempt due to the predestined failure of our ship, Commander," Jen said coldly. "Continue course as is, Lieutenant." 

The simulation ended, and the trial computer screens turned off automatically. While the test crew remained dumbfounded in their seats, Jen abruptly got up from her seat and left the simulation room. 

Conflicting emotions brewed within her like the collected dust of a young tornado, narrowing her focus on escaping the building and taking some gulps of fresh air. She needed oxygen, and it seemed like the stuffy air inside just did not have enough. She had stubbornly, purposefully missed the point of the simulation to show her frustration at the idea of a no-win scenario to Captain Pike. She wanted to run away as fast as possible. But her attempt at escape was to no avail: Pike intercepted it with a hand on her shoulder. She stopped mid jog, but she didn’t turn to face him. 

"What do you think you were doing in there, Jen? Throwing a temper tantrum for the programmers of the simulation to see?" he asked in a lowered voice. "Don't say that this is your idea of command and decision-making - I know by the results of your last test that in the event of a real distress call, you would have breached the borders of the neutral zone without a second thought. What do you think you're going to accomplish by giving up because you think it's pointless?" 

"I don't _think_ it's pointless, Captain," Jen responded through gritted teeth. "It _is_ pointless. In the event of a real distress call, I won’t have the glorious opportunity of knowing that no matter what I do, I’ll still fail." 

With that, she shook off Pike's hand and briskly walked out of the testing building. 

Jen made her way over to the star observatory at the edge of the Academy grounds. Mostly unoccupied by Academy cadets, it was instead run by the astronomers that were in association with Starfleet's exploration programme for the charting and categorisation of stars and planets throughout and outside of the Milky Way. Even though Jen had no plans of choosing the path of an astronomer over that of an explorer, the observatory was where she felt closest to the stars while still standing with her two feet on Terran ground. 

Since it was almost noon, the sun masked the views of the stars that Jen so yearned for, but the observatory could still offer her consolation. Technically, cadets weren't allowed to enter the expansive building without having an approved note from a professor, but Jen had hacked the code to the entrance of the building a year ago and liked to sneak in to make use of the extremely high-focused - not to mention off-limits - telescope. Some of the astronomers who worked there even knew her. Most of them had stopped questioning her or trying to kick her out after two months of Jen's visits. 

As Jen made her way across the Federation quad, something itched at the back of her mind: a feeling that she was being watched. She glanced to her right, spotting a ginger man lingering by the fountain in the middle of the quad. Even though some cadets appeared out of uniform on Academy grounds at the end of the day, it was never while classes were still in session. The man stood out in a tacky plaid suit from the cadets that passed her, contrasting the sea of red. Jen could tell that he was trying to lean inconspicuously against the fountain, but the tilt of his head aiming just slightly towards Jen let her instantly recognise his attempts to remain undetected. Even behind his shades, his line of sight was obviously open to Jen's path across Academy grounds. 

She assessed this in a brief moment, then looked back in the direction she was walking and chose to pretend that she saw nothing. As she rounded a corner of buildings, however, she looked back to see the man missing from his spot by the fountain. 

_Well, great,_ she thought. _Not a stalker to brighten my day._

She paused, staying hidden behind the cover of the building, waiting for the man to appear from its other side. When he rounded the corner behind her, she back fisted him with her left hand and roundhouse kicked him with her right leg, causing him to shriek, lose his balance, and tilt drastically to his right. Jen grabbed his throat with her left hand, taking care to not do too much damage, and his left wrist with her right, slamming him into the wall behind them. She kept his right arm in place with the corner of her left elbow to ensure that he couldn't punch her back. 

She looked at him properly for the first time, suddenly noticing the terrified expression on his face. His mouth was gaping like a fish, and his eyebrows seemed to have flown to the top of his forehead out of fear. His short red hair had somehow ended up ruffled. 

Loosening her hold on the man ever so slightly, she asked, "Who the fuck are you, what do you want, and why are you following me? Don't even try to run away from me, or I will beat you into the ground, and you'll be nothing more than a brutally trampled fly." 

"Oh, I don't doubt that," the man made out in a croak, his Scottish accent still resonant through huffs of air. "Please let me go, ma'am. I honesty don't know the first thing about fighting, and I ain't gonna attack you. I value my life, you know!" 

Slowly, warily, Jen released him. The man didn't look too dangerous - simply freaked the fuck out of his mind. Immediately, she felt a gnawing guilt. She had a knack of automatically distrusting people, but this man had the look of a honesty of a man awaiting certain death. 

"What do you need?" she tried again. 

"Well, first of all, let me introduce meself," he said as energetically as he could manage through his obvious trepidation, sticking out his hand, but dropping it when Jen didn't take it. "Montgomery Scott, but ya can call me Scotty. Please do, actually. And I know I'm having the good pleasure of meeting Cadet Jennifer Tiberia Kirk." 

"Yup, that's me, but please call me Jen," Jen responded automatically. "I'm sorry for attacking you, but do you need anything? I'm kind of busy right now." It was a blatant lie, but Jen really wasn't in the mood for talking to strange people who sought her out to talk to her about something important enough that called for a suit. 

Scotty cringed slightly. "This is where it gets slightly personal. I'm here because of your brother, James Kirk." 

For a moment, a cold, sinking fear gripped Jen's heart. It dripped slowly into her system, much more menacingly than a no-win scenario simulation could. She hadn't seen her brother in three years, since she had left for the Academy, when he had applied to an arts school and went on to make his debut as solo singer and guitarist. Jen hadn't contacted him since, hadn't even told Gaila or Janice that she had a twin. It had never come up, and she didn't particularly want it to. 

"What about him?" Jen asked, crossing her arms and trying not to curl into herself. 

"Ah, well, I'm his manager," Scotty replied, shifting around on his feet, "and he was just invited to be the fourth member of StarKid." 

He looked at her expectantly, as if he expected her to be awed, but the name didn't ring any bells. She didn't listen to music religiously, so it annoyed her when people expected her to know the names of everything that was new and hip, judging her to be some passionate rock enthusiast. That wasn't her - that was her brother. 

"So?" she eventually asked. 

"'So'?!" Scotty, shouted, waving his arms, eyes bulging. "You've never heard of StarKid? StarKid, the sensational boy band, the interplanetary and interspecies phenomenon, the greatest and best-selling rock stars of the century? Have you been living under a rock, Jen?" 

"Sure, if you want to think about it like that, Scotty," Jen said sarcastically. "C'mon, get to the point, man. What's the problem? Why do you need me for any of this? I really don't think the reason you're here is to fly me to some distant planet that he now owns with all his money and make me congratulate him on all of his accomplishments." 

"Wow, not funny," Scotty said bitterly. "Christ, you're so much like your brother, Jen. Not only your features, but your jokes, too. I can't believe you're fraternal." 

Dropping teasing tone, Scotty said, "There's been a slight accident. Nothing to worry about, so don't you panic," he hurried to add, probably due to whatever expression that flashed on her face just now. "I, ah, suggested he get a few slight touches on his eyes. Nothing major, but the bloody surgeon fucked it up a bit. He's in recuperation from a surgery that fixed the slight mistakes that were made." 

"So wait, let me get this straight," Jen responded. "Jim doesn't look pretty enough, because his eye-job was fucked up, and now you want me to - what? Be his stand-in for something? Be a goddamn doppelgänger? No. No way in seven hells." 

Jen turned around to go, sighing in frustration, but something suddenly grabbed her ankles and lower calves, causing her to give an undignified screech and almost stumble face-first onto the ground. She shook herself out of the grip and jumped away quickly, looking back to see Scotty sprawled on the floor, looking up at her desperately, practically kissing the ground before her feet. 

"Jen!" he sobbed. "Jen, please! Please don't screw your brother over like this. Do this for Jim! All you need to do is sign the contract of joining the band for him! There ain't any singing, I promise you! If he doesn't come to sign the papers - and he _can't_ -, then this amazing opportunity will be lost to him. Forever, Jen!" 

Jen finally hesitated, assessing the situation. Obviously, she wasn't happy that her brother was too scared to show up because of something as petty as plastic surgery problems, and that he made his manager resort to taking advantage to their uncanny similarity. And she wasn't exactly on the best of terms with him, having been torn away from him by the harsh years of the childhood. The years had been like oceanic waves of immense force breaking on rocks, eventually wearing away at her relationship with Jim and transforming everything they shared into grains of sand. But he was her brother. He was family, but most importantly, he was Jim. The only boy in her life, and even with him it was difficult. She couldn't say that he would rescue her if the situation were reversed, but she needed to start looking to herself instead of him, anyways. 

"Okay, fine," she said eventually, trying not to smile, when Scotty's face lit up brilliantly. "How many days do you think this will take? This signing the papers gig?" 

Scrambling up to his feet, Scotty began to lead Jen to the front of the Academy grounds, to the campus exit. As his excitement increased, his Scottish accent bled through his words, but Jen could still make out what he was saying. 

"I'll pick you up this Friday afternoon after your classes, aye, Jen? It'll be a flight to New York, where StarKid's agency is, and you'll be back in San Francisco by the end of Sunday. All the expenses will be covered by the Star Agency. How does that sound?" 

"As long as I'll be back, it sounds fine, Scotty," Jen responded. She needed to really focus on her upcoming exams to secure her place on the _Enterprise_ 's maiden voyage in less than a month. Because she had only the minimum requirements for the command track, attending the Academy for three years instead of four, she needed to be at the top of her class to be placed as an ensign or lieutenant aboard the beautiful new ship. 

"Great!" Scotty said, grinning, handing her a card with his contact information. "Make sure to send me a message to my PADD so that I can give you more details. Thank you, Jen, truly. It really means a lot to both Jim and I." 

Jen waved it off, deciding to go back to class instead of sulking in the observatory. The anger had fled her system, replaced instead by a nervousness, which she tried, unsuccessfully, to stomp down. 

~ 

"So," Jen began, putting down her PADD after getting tired of reading for the past four and something hours on the plane to New York. "Tell me about StarKid." 

"You really didn't read a word from the articles I sent to you, did you?" Scotty asked in amusement without looking up from his PADD. 

"Nope," Jen said, a shit-eating grin on her face. 

"Did you at least watch some music videos?" 

"Ugh, even worse," Jen groaned. "I thought you only needed me to sign contracts for him. I have no interest in cute little idol boys singing about their relationship problems." 

"You're really hard to work with, you know that, Jen?" 

"Sir, yes, sir," she responded. "But seriously. Tell me about the other band members. Why do they suddenly need a fourth member?" 

"Well, okay," Scotty began, looking up at her. "Let's start from the beginning. First, we have this music genius whiz kid named Pavel Chekov on drum set. He's seventeen, Jen, but he inhales vodka like oxygen whenever he can get his hands on it. That is to say, always, because he's kind of like the agency's little pet. Super excited, talks like _dees, beecause hee ees from Mother Russia_ , you know? He could have been the next Mozart if he had stuck with it; he had already been composing little melodies on piano when he was four. But instead, he dyed his hair a blue shade of black, if you know what I’m talking about, and ran away from The Juilliard School to go to Berkley College of Music with jazz piano, instead, dabbling with other kinds of percussion instruments. He's basically self-taught at the drum set, but that kid is something else. 

"Leonard McCoy is the backup vocalist and guitarist of StarKid. Chekov does vocals, too, but just not as much. McCoy went to Berkley, too, which was how he met Chekov. The thing is, he's ten years older than the kid. He got his MD at Stanford at twenty three, because he's actually a goddamn genius. When his wife Jocelyn filed for a divorce and left to Georgia, taking his daughter Joanna with her under full custody, he threw himself into music instead." 

"Sounds rough," Jen muttered, trying to empathise. 

"His hobby was guitar and blues, which transitioned to swing, which transitioned to rock over time. He's a surly man, a worrier, and doctor through and through, but he's got a good heart. 

"And then there's Spock." 

"And then there's Spock?" Jen whispered mock-conspirationally. 

"S'chn T'gai Spock, more commonly known as Spock of Vulcan, is the leader of StarKid. Despite growing up on Earth, he applied to the Vulcan Music Academy at the age of sixteen, only to infamously turn their acceptance down to go to Juilliard, instead. Unlike Chekov, he actually graduated. God knows why he chose Juilliard, though. The VMA is notorious for being leaps and bounds ahead of any Terran music college, but Spock didn't seem to mind. He tutored at Juilliard, too, when Chekov still went there, but they got along on a peer to peer dynamic, despite the fact that Spock was his professor at a point in time." 

"What does Spock, uh, play?" 

"He's the lead vocalist of StarKid, but he's also on guitar, especially when they need McCoy on base instead. He's having some vocal issues: a vocal cord nodule. He has some tissue growing in his vocal chords. It's been treatable for the past half century, but the surgery will go smoother if he takes care of his voice instead of overusing and worsening the condition. The Star Agency's manager, Hikaru Sulu, doesn't want to take any chances, so he's making Spock lip-sync onstage for now. It was Sulu's plan to bring in a new band member to compensate for the temporary vocal loss. This frustrates the Vulcan to no end, but he really cares about his work. Aside from the temporary vocal issue, he can do much about everything." 

"Oh really?" Jen asked dubiously. "Anything?" 

"Aye, anything. He composes; plays classical piano, violin, bassoon, and Vulcan lyre; dabbles with jazz and reeds; and focuses on vocals. You have to be there to understand, Jim," Scotty said, emphasising his respect for the man through wild gesticulations. "He's more robot than human, but that's because he isn't human. He's Vulcan. Do you know what Vulcans built their life around?" 

"Uh, repressing their emotions and walking around like they have a stick up their ass?" Jen asked. 

"Yes, but more importantly, logic. Spock's made of logic like a good drink's made of spirit instead of fake fruit juice. It's mental that he's into all of this, really, because music tends not to be logical. But for Spock, it is." 

"Yeah, I'm not completely a music person, but I'm pretty sure logic and the arts don't go together," Jen said. 

"I'd explain it to you, how he does his Vulcan magic, but I think you'd rather see for yourself, Jen," Scotty said with a smile. "You know, I think you'll like Spock." 

"Oh really?" Jen asked ruefully. "I'm probably the most illogical person he'll ever meet." 

~ 

Scotty led Jim outside the airport and into the bright lights of New York. Time Square and the big city were a distance away, but Jen's eyes widened at the enormity. She'd only ever been to San Francisco outside of Riverside: she had just hopped on a motorcycle and driven all the way to the Academy from Iowa, but San Fran was nothing compared to NYC. This was a new level of enormous, even if still couldn't be compared to the vast reaches of the universe that Jen wanted to explore in space. 

Busy looking around, Jen didn't notice to limousine that had pulled up. A chauffeur held the door open for her and Scotty, but she could only gape before the Scotsman dragged her inside. 

"Scotty," she said vaguely. 

"Aye?" 

"Why are we in a limousine? With bodyguards? And a no-nonsense looking driver?" 

"What, you don't expect a limo to exist without a cabbie, do you?" Scotty said with a chuckle. "Jen, we're going to the Star Agency offices. We need some protection from the fangirls and paparazzi crowd, don’t you know? Without body guards, we'll all be squashed by literally the entire female population of New York." 

"Jesus Christ," Jen muttered, looking out of the open window at the towering skyscrapers, which illuminated the night sky. 

When they arrived at the offices, Scotty's claim of "literally" proved to be true: a medium-sized crowd of girls of all ages, mostly in their twenties, crowded near the walkway into the building, wearing weird combinations of shirts with glittering stars, tiaras with stars, tights with stars, and more. The placards that they passionately thrust into the air to proclaim their love for StarKid were also star-shaped, and Jen almost felt like bolting away at any moment and never returning to this particular nightmare. 

Scotty was already entering the building, telling Jen not to take too long, when a blonde girl of about her age, wearing a tiara with golden stars, and a blue dress with golden stars, and a goddamn star placard that had "Christine loves you, Spock!" written on it, ran up to Jen, thrust one of her many mini star placards into her hand, and eyed her with interest. 

"I get it!" she shouted after a few moments of staring at Jen, who just stood there, too fascinated by the development of a StarKid fangirl talking to her to move. 

"Get what?" 

"You're dressed up like Starfleet!" she said. " _Star_ fleet? _Star_ Kid? Why didn't I think of that?" 

Jen looked down, realising that she had forgone changing out of her cadet reds into more comfortable clothes on the trip here. 

She was about to retort something to Christine - something about her actually being in goddamn Starfleet -, when another limousine pulled up at the sidewalk. Its exiting passengers were obscured from Jen's view by the enthusiastic screaming and crying, but they soon began to walk her way. Too late, Jen realised that she was standing almost at the centre of their walkway towards the building behind her, but she could not move or look away. 

Three men walked towards her, full of purpose and poise, leaving a trail of female tears and sobs in their wake. She could put Scotty’s words and names to each of them based on their walks, on their expressions, as they made her way past her. Chekov, with the fluffy blonde hair and excitement of a Yorkshire terrier, smiled and waved, signing the star placard that she was still holding in her hand. McCoy eyed her gruffly, looking apologetic as Chekov bounced around her for a couple of moments. Spock of Vulcan walked a step behind them, his prim and proper bowl cut doing nothing to hide the tip of his ears, which flushed green only slightly, as his gaze flicked to Jen's and held it. Maybe it had been her imagination, or a trick of the light. 

_I have seen the stars,_ she thought belatedly as they passed, swaying on her feet and looking up at the sky to the distant galaxies, her blood pounding in her ears. _Are they as beautiful in space as they are here, in front of me?_

"Jen!" hissed Scotty, pulling her out of her trance. He pulled her in the direction of the building, and she could do nothing but follow in a daze. "Hurry, we need you to change before you go in and see Sulu." 

They arrived in the dressing room, with Jen still in a daze from just having seen the most beautiful beings in her entire life, to see another quite stunningly gorgeous woman, her skin and eyes a deep chocolate hue, waiting patiently for them. She stood up as they entered, smiling quickly before schooling her facial features back into a serious expression and collecting some clothes off of the racks behind her with lightning efficiency. 

"Uhura, this is Jen Kirk," Scotty began nervously. "Jen, this is my, uh, Uhura." 

"I'm StarKid's stylist, Jen," Uhura filled in. "It's nice to meet you. Remember: only Scotty and I know about this arrangement and your true identity, so be careful not to mention this to anyone else.” 

"Of course not," Jen replied, being as assertive as possible. "I don't want to get my balls chopped off, if you know what I mean." 

"That's the right mindset, Kirk," Uhura said smugly, throwing a chest binder, a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a sweater into her arms. "Thank god you have a skinny boy's complexion, or this might have been difficult. Change quickly, and then we'll do your hair as best as we can." 

Jen complied, allowing Uhura to work her hair magic. Jen didn't care about her hair, really. She just grown it out out of habit her entire life, with no specific reason to cut it, so it was almost up to her thighs. She didn't do much with it, though, only made a braid or a ponytail for class to stop it from becoming a distraction. She had been thinking about cutting it, but the timing had always seemed to be off. 

Now, Uhura took advantage of its fairness to flatten two French braids against Jen's scalp and pull a short blonde wig over her hair. It was the longest hair cut her brother ever opted for when they still lived together - slightly shaggy that was just enough to cover the ridges left by the braids -, but it looked natural. Looking into the mirror, Jen sucked in a breath: Jimmy Kirk looked back at her with an equally shocked expression. 

"Say something," Uhura ordered. "It's pretty good now, but try to make your voice just a little deeper." 

"Uh, I'm James T. Kirk, and I would make a dick joke, but I'm too much into women to let my threatened masculinity waver for even a moment," Jen said in a fake, stuffy baritone. 

"God, you're such a Kirk," Uhura said. "Your jokes are lame disgusting. But that's okay, 'cause this way you're just like him. Jen, you're ready. Scotty, come in! _He's_ ready!" 

Scotty wiped at his face, and Jen noticed that he was sweating profusely. 

"Calm the fuck down, man," Jen muttered into his ear, walking next to him down the hall towards an office door. 

Scotty glared at him menacingly, pushing open the door. Jen was greeted with the sight of a handsome man sitting behind his desk in a perfectly tailored suit, much more intimidating and professional than Scotty's. He rose to meet Jen, offering his hand to shake. "Hikaru Sulu, Manager of Star Agency. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister James T. Kirk." 

"Likewise, Mister Sulu," Jen answer, returning the grip and vaguely freaking out about whether her hands were calloused enough to pass as older than a teenage boy. Probably, since she was the one who always liked to tinker with cars and gadgets, not her brother. "And please, call me Jim." 

"Of course, Jim. Now, all you have to do is sign the contract of agreement that you’ll return to the press conference next weekend, that you will perform with StarKid at the closest opportunity, and that you’ll remain with the rock band for span of at least five years," Sulu told her, directing her towards the papers, which were laid out for her at an adjacent desk. 

Jen didn't bother to read the fine print, since she knew that this is what her brother wanted. Standing in his shoes for a few moments herself, she could sense all the potential brimming just under the surface. Both the publicity and the talented colleagues assured her that he had finally found a place to settle down and be satisfied. 

Just as she finished signing the stack of contracts, Spock entered the room at a brisk pace, followed by a not-so-relaxed McCoy and still gleeful Chekov, coming to stand directly in front of Jen's desk. She blamed her shortness of breath and the steady acceleration of her heart rate on her surprise. 

"Mister Kirk, I am Spock of Vulcan, the lead vocalist of StarKid," he began in a deep baritone, his words sounding simultaneously urged and calm, as if he were trying purposefully to hold back any hint of emotion. "I understand that Mister Sulu recruited you based on your uncanny vocal talents. However, I have not heard them, and it would be illogical to accept you into the band based on the word of manager instead of a musician, a vocalist such as myself. I will prefer to hear you before your contract becomes final." 

Panic gripped Jen, who looked to Sulu. He seemed to be more aware of Jim’s talents than she was. Jen didn't know the complete spectrum of Jim's abilities, and now a flustered Vulcan wanted to hear her voice? Sulu rolled his eyes, looking annoyed in an amused way, as if to say that the Vulcan always threw similar fits. 

"Y-you know," stuttered Scotty, "I don't think that's a good idea-" 

"Why not?" Sulu asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. "Spock has the right to know whether or not he'll be satisfied with his new vocalist." 

"Yeah, actually, it's not a bad plan," McCoy said thoughtfully from where he was standing behind Spock. "We could all go to the recording studio, if you like, Spock." 

Spock straightened up from where he was ominously leaning over Jen. "Your idea is sound, Leonard. Please accompany us to the recording studio, Mister Kirk." 

Afraid to give herself away somehow, Jen mutely followed, shock and dread reigning over her nerves and her skipping heart clogging her throat. Even if she didn't bolt by the time they entered the recording studio, she wouldn't be able to make out a single note. 

Jen didn't know what Spock, McCoy, or Chekov expected her to do when she came into the recording room, but she didn't start singing. She couldn't! How could she? Her voice was probably so much different from Jim's, which would make him sound different than her, probably even worse. 

"Please perform a lyrical passage of your preference, Mister Kirk," Spock said with obvious irritation at her silence. 

Facing away from the trio, she took a deep breath. She couldn't do this. She didn't even listen to classic rock groups, and especially not to new twenty third century hits. Fuck, she listened to opera sometimes! Could they listen to-" 

"I will inform Sulu of his mistake, Mister Kirk," Spock said evenly, moving to open the door. It was then that Jen found her voice. 

“ _Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation._

" _Darkness stirs and wakes imagination._

" _Silently the senses abandon their defenses…_

" _Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour._

" _Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender._

" _Turn your face away from the garish light of day;_

" _Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light,_

" _And listen to the music of the night._

" _Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams._

" _Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before._

" _Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar,_

" _And you'll live as you've never lived before._

" _Softly, deftly, music shall surround you._

" _Feel it, hear it, closing in around you._

" _Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind_

" _In this darkness which you know you cannot fight,_

" _The darkness of the music of the night._

" _Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world._

" _Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before._

" _Let your soul take you where you long to be._

" _Only then can you belong to me._

" _Floating, falling, sweet intoxication._

" _Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation._

" _Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in_

" _To the power of the music that I write,_

" _The power of the music of the night._

" _You alone can make my song take flight._

" _Help me make the music of the night._ ” 

The orchestra continued to buzz in Jen's ear, in contrast to the stark silence that surrounded her. She turned around, facing three equally stunned expressions. She offered a small smile to Spock, who was wearing an expression that was blanker than usual. Turning around without a word, he fled the room. 

Jen deflated a little, sagging against against the desk behind her. Singing in front of an audience wore her out - it wasn't exactly a hobby that she had. Ultimately, she knew that she could sing, but she had never chosen to pursue it like her brother, even when he begged her to make a career with him. But seeing someone so cold towards her performance, even though she _knew_ it had been good, made her disappointed and tired. 

Chekov approached her slowly, as if trying not to spook her, eyes wide in fascination. "I have honestly never heard a voice as beautiful as yours, Mister Kirk," he said in his thick Russian accent. "You have an uncanny ability of singing soprano, stunning for a male. This is what Spock has been searching for, I promise you!" 

"Then why did he look like someone ruffled his cat fur and flicked his pointy ears?" Jen muttered. 

"He always acts like that, Spock does," McCoy responded in a light Southern drawl. "I'd say that something was wrong in his upbringing, but it's really just all Vulcans. They don't seem to have a gene for giving compliments." 

"His reaction right now was one hundred percent acceptance!" Chekov explained. "You're a part of the band now. I'm Pasha, by the way." 

"Jim Kirk," she responded, nodding to both of them. 

"Well, Jim," McCoy began, "I’d tell you that we're a alternative rock group, dammit, not an opera. This was an interesting choice, considering, but your voice is... Something else. I felt it resonating all the way to down to my bones." 

Jen smirked in both disbelief and amusement. "Well, Bones," she said, clapping him on the shoulder as she passed him on the way out of the recording room, "thanks for the voice of support. I'm gonna get out of here before Spock freaks the fuck out again. See you guys later." Or not. 

Scotty met her on her way to the changing room, his eyes wide in awe. He had heard her singing, then. "Jen, why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?" 

"Because even if I can sing, I don't," Jen replied tersely. 

"Why not? You're as good as Jim - you can be shining on your own stage right now, swimming in pools of money!" 

"It's not what I want to do in my life, Scotty," Jen replied. "I'm an explorer, a cadet on the command track. Flying through space is already my passion, even though I haven't had the opportunity to do it yet. Even though I know my voice is decent without having to try too much, I wouldn't choose a singing career over Starfleet. It's a relief for me that the ordeal is over, but Jim will love it here." 

When Scotty didn't respond, she looked back at him, only to see him once against kneeling on his knees in front of her. Jesus Christ, she's not actually the god here. 

"Jen, please, there's been something-" 

"Oh, god no," Jen groaned, turning around. "I have no interest in playing Jim for a second longer. No matter what you have to say, I'm not going to." 

"Jen, I swear that I only found out earlier this week," Scotty called after her. "I didn't lie to you when we first met. But I didn't tell you after either, because I knew you'd refuse to even sign the contract, if you knew that I wanted you to step in for Jim for another month." 

"Another _month_?" Jen exclaimed. "Are you shitting me? Do you know what happens this month, Scotty?" 

Scotty just looked at her with a pained expression. 

"In a week, I'm beaming aboard the USS _Enterprise_ to study its engineering sector and finish the final touches before its departure, as per invitation of the admiralty, which has placed its faith in _me_ , a cadet who is graduating from the command track in only _three_ years, to be on the first crew, possibly even command team, of the ship. In two weeks, I have the Academy exit exams, which will determine that. And in a month, Scotty, the _Enterprise_ is starting its five-year mission. How the hell are you expecting me to spend that month running around with the galaxy's top idol group?" 

"Do you know why Jim wants to sing?" Scotty cried in a desperate attempt to change Jen’s mind and heart. "It’s because he wants to find his mother. He said he has to sing, so that maybe, just maybe, it would make your mother see him, wherever she is, and make her want to come back!" 

"Just forget it, Scotty," Jen told him, grabbing her things without even bothering to change. "I wanted our mother to come back, too, for so long. But I'm not going to sacrifice my own goals to fulfil my brother's hopeless childhood dreams. I'm sorry." 

With that, Jen walked out of the room, leaving a distraught Scotty and her brother's life behind her. 

~ 

On Friday afternoon later that week, Pike called Jen into his office to talk to her. She had buried herself in her studies for the past week, preparing for both her week-long trip onto the _Enterprise_ for engineering work as well as the exams that were the week after that. Even though she could admit it to herself, it helped distract her from the perpetual guilt and worry for taking advantage of her career's success at the expense of her brother's. Her meeting with Pike could prove to be a healthy distraction. 

When she entered his office, she saw him perched on his desk with a glass of whiskey in hand, waiting for her. He offered her a glass, but she declined with a shake of her head: she didn't prefer to drink the bourbon until she knew things were getting really bad. 

"I'm signing you up as my first officer, Jen," Pike said, as soon as she was sitting in the armchair across from him. She gaped at him. 

"Are you serious?" she asked. "What about the test results?" 

"The whole admiralty knows that your exam scores are going to be at the top of your class, Jen," Pike replied. "You've got nothing to be worried about. And even if they aren’t, all your prior hard work and achievements up to this point speak for your position. But I’d like to talk to you about the stunt you pulled on the _Kobayashi Maru_." 

"What about it?" Jen asked, grimacing. She knew perfectly well that her behaviour in the simulation room wasn't the best. Her anger had simply gotten away with her. 

"I thought long and hard about your intentions behind it. I understand that you're angry at the simulation for being unbeatable. Its purpose is to assess your action in the face of certain death." 

Before Jen had a chance to speak, Pike raised his hand, and continued, "You're right that there is no such thing as certain death, and that even if there is, you still wouldn't know you were facing it if you were in a real life situation. You, Jen, wouldn't believe in your impending death even for a second, even if it were a no-win scenario through and through. But you would do anything in your power to change that, bending the rules in the way no one else would do and still survive. Which is why I want you on my ship. With me, on the bridge." 

"Thank you, sir," she responded, trying to bring herself to sound more excited than tired, which she certainly was. 

"Your _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario score wasn't the best this time around, because you simply refused to do it. I feel like it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. The score we're using is from your first try, which wasn't as dismal as that of most cadets. You did everything you could in the simulation correctly, following procedure without going into the state of panic of the average tester. What you did this time didn't give you credit, but it gave insight on what you believe and how you think to officers who know you worse than I do. I know your side track was engineering. You're beaming up to the _Enterprise_ with the engineering team, aren't you?" 

"Yes, sir," Jen replied, after only a brief moment of hesitation. 

Pike studied her for a moment, fingers steepled under his chin, before coming to sit in the armchair adjacent to hers. 

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, Jen?" 

"There's nothing wrong, Captain," she said. "I'm really grateful for your confidence in me, and for this opportunity." 

"Don't bullshit me, Jen," he responded seriously. "I've known you for three years, probably better than anyone at the Academy, based on how much you like to buzz my ears through and through in my office. I can tell that something's up - something that's bothering you. What is it?" 

"You _do_ know me better than anyone," she told him. "But the things that I purposefully hid from Starfleet records by illegally omitting information and jacking into the database when it was found out anyways, you don't know." 

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled. 

"I have a twin brother," she responded. "His name is James T. Kirk." 

She told Pike the whole story, starting from how they parted ways at the orphanage after turning eighteen and being old enough to go to college. She mentioned the way she hid her brother’s existence from all those who knew her, deleting his name from her profile after Starfleet contacted the orphanage anyways. She told him the problem with the cosmetic surgery, which would now fuck up everything he worked for, unless Jen came to his rescue. 

"Holy shit," Pike commented after a while, taking a swig from his glass and not looking too bothered about the fact that Jen just admitted to breaking more than a few laws. "Why don't you want Starfleet, or anyone, for that matter, to know that you have a family?" 

"Our lives are separate," Jen said bitterly. "I don't want to burden his career with worries about my well-being, and I never wanted extra publicity, especially now that he's going to be in what they say is the most amazing rock group of the century." 

"And now, out of the blue, he needs you to fill in for him for a month?" 

"From what his manager has been telling me, it wasn’t his idea," Jen said, running a hand through her hair. "Actually, I don't think he knows about it, which makes me all the more concerned. He would probably make Scotty sign a contract that forbids him from doing something like that, ever. Even if it would save his career, Jim is not the type of person to let anyone step in for him and have the chance to take credit for his success. . Scotty probably hasn't told him of the press conference or any of the upcoming concerts that he wants me to attend. It's a secret from everyone except StarKid's stylist, who managed my temporary female to male transformation. Jim probably thinks that StarKid will patiently wait for him for a month until he recovers, when in reality, if they knew he wasn’t up for their agenda, they would fill the spot with someone else. If Jim sees me onstage, he's going to freak out and wreck havoc." 

"So, are you going to step in?" Pike asked, rubbing his chin contemplatively. 

"I don't know how that's possible, sir,” Jen grit out, jumping up from her seat in frustration. "I've spent the past three years building my life around Starfleet, and this month is the most important out of them all." 

"Calm down, Jen," Pike said, taking her by the shoulders. "You want to help your brother, don't you?" 

"I've been looking forward to beaming aboard the _Enterprise_ and helping with its final touches, but now that's just going to be taken away from me?" 

"The whole thing will only last for a month, right?" he asked. Jen nodded. "You'll have time to come back before the start of the mission, and you can even take your exams later than usual. It's all about your personal priorities. If you choose to go through with it, no one will blame you for taking a break from your responsibilities to the _Enterprise_." 

"But as first officer, I'm _required_ to be there. If I don't go now, if I just miss the most important month of classes, you won't be able to do anything when the admiralty chooses to move me down to Lieutenant." 

Pike's eyes softened considerably, and he regarded Jen with simultaneous affection and amusement. 

"You'll have other opportunities for being first officer, Jen," he told her. "Rank is not the only thing that will define you as a person." 

"But-" 

"I know that you yearn for the stars, Jen," he reiterated. "I've seen it in your eyes. But even if it may not seem like it, it's possible to see them from where you're standing, too." 

Jen couldn't meet his eyes, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions brewing just under the surface of her skin before they overflowed into a mess of tears. 

"There are many things to experience in life, Jen, as cliché at that sounds. Promise me you'll think about it. Send me a message if you change your mind." 

Jen could only nod numbly and make her way out of Pike's office without a word. 

~ 

Despite feeling burdened by a great weight on her shoulders, Jen didn't change her mind by the next day. Dressed in cadet reds, she arrived at the space terminal with a small pack of personal belongings, gripping her academic beaming pass tightly in her hand. 

The terminal was filled with people of all races and species, many of them Starfleet personnel. They rushed in different directions and submerged Jen in the crowd. She tried to avoid any collisions as she made her way to the _Enterprise_ terminal, but it was to no avail. 

While she was looking to the right, distracted by the large billboards advertising the three original members of StarKid, she knocked into someone's broad chest, dropping the pass out of her momentarily flailing hands. The individual in front of her had dropped their PADD, which fell onto the ground with an unruly clang. They both knelt down to help one another other with their belongings, grabbing each other's and even knocking their foreheads together in the process. As they both stood, Jen looked up first: it was Spock. 

He was dressed in a traditional Vulcan garment from head to toe. It looked absolutely ridiculous on him, clearly meant to hide his well-known appearance from the public; Jen could see Bones and Chekov a little distance behind him, wearing tacky fedoras and shades that his a large portion of their faces. 

Spock was not the only Vulcan at the space terminal - the occasional Vulcan could also be seen wearing the same grey morose robes. His was hooded, covering the tips of his ears and the lower half of his face. But Jen didn't have a problem recognising him. Even with his eyes not looking at her, she could see the soft grey that seemed to speak more volumes than his trite words ever did. 

Jen turned around immediately before Spock had the chance to see her face, rushing away as fast as her suitcase permitted her. Why was StarKid at the goddamn space terminal? Didn’t they have a performance to give on Romulus or something? Not that Jen cared or anything. She was simply frustrated to no end, angry at StarKid for once again making an appearance in her previously semi-normal life. Only when she was buried in a crowd of people did she belatedly realise that she was still holding Spock’s PADD - and that Spock still held her pass. 

Jen cursed, banging her forehead against the PADD several times out of frustration. There was literally no way that she could retrieve her pass or return Spock's PADD directly to him without him recognising her. The length of her hair did not change her features or the way she talked. God, she wanted to punch a wall just to punish herself for once again being an idiot. Why couldn't she just have picked up her pass, instead? 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spock swiftly making his way in her direction. Not running, to avoid making a scene, probably, but still at a brisk pace. Great. Jen was now a filthy thief, and Spock would probably call into Starfleet to report "a Terran female cadet with blonde hair in the top ninetieth percentile of length.” 

It was okay, Jen assured herself. She could send it to Scotty. Maybe Spock wouldn't forgive the girl who snagged his PADD, but he would still have it back. 

Looking over her shoulder to make sure Spock wasn't still following her, she made the long way around the terminal, hiding behind the large crowd instead of walking straight through it, where Spock would undoubtedly be looking for her. Even though she didn't have her ticket, she could still charm her way past the guards. If she was lucky, they'd be thick-skulled or out of practice at actually fighting off trespassers. 

She wasn't lucky. She was running late, too: the allotted time for beaming aboard was from oh six hundred to eighteen hundred. It was already ten till eighteen hundred, and the Starfleet guards that stood by the hall to the transporter room didn't look like they were in a mood for playing around. She approached them warily, attempting to hide her concern beneath a flirtatious smile. 

"Do you have a pass, Cadet?" one asked her seriously. 

"I'm _really_ sorry," she began, twisting the end of her braid around her index finger and biting her bottom lip, "but some idiot stole it. I'm serious! I dropped it, because I was distracted at the moment, and some douche just-" 

"Save us the pity party, Cadet," the other said with an frown that meant business. "No entrance without a pass, and no exceptions. Even if you lost the ticket." 

"I didn't _lose_ it!" Jen sputtered indignantly. "It was _stolen_ -" 

"Enough!" he said. "If you will not cease your behaviour, which is improper for a Starfleet Academy attendee and cadet, you will be escorted out. We do not have the time for your nonsense, as we have to be aboard the _Enterprise_ in five minutes. Have a good day." 

Jen sighed, moving away from the _Enterprise_ gate and in the direction of the space terminal's exit. She must have been losing her touch at getting what she wanted from men. She wasn't particularly disappointed with the development, since her preference from men had been slowly waning over the last few years, but it would have been nice to make it onto the spaceship without difficult complications. 

Sitting down at nearby gate, no plan B in mind, Jen let loose a sigh of defeat. Unsure of how to continue, she turned to Spock's PADD. Even though she needed a combination to unlock it, a StarKid track was paused on the locked screen. Pressing play, she was instantly enamoured by the soft, lyrical ballad that gently flowed out of the PADD. 

It was Spock's voice, undoubtedly, accompanied only by the occasional chords of the piano, trickling along in the background. He sung in French, the basics of which Jen still remembered from high school. She knew that StarKid was famous for employing a collection of languages, Terran and not, in their music, making them loved by cultures all over the Federation. Spock sung of memories and nostalgia in this piece, the compassion and melancholy in his voice so unlike the mercilessness of his Vulcan self that Jen had witnessed briefly in their first meeting. Closing her eyes, Jen could feel herself being carried away, waves of her past overwhelming her. 

_Two small frames, a boy and a girl with short, unruly blonde hair, sit on the porch of a battered house, looking up into the sky. It almost seems illuminated with the stars that hang above them, decorating the night sky that will always overlook both of them on this planet._

_"Do you think mom is watching the same stars right now, Jenny?" the boy asks._

"I hope so," she responds, "but I don't know. What if mom doesn't like the stars? What if she can't... can't see them anymore?" 

"I can't accept that!" the boy shouts, jumping up to his feet, pulling his sister with him. "Someday, I will sing for the whole world, and I will be a star, just like the ones in the sky. She will be able to see me shining from wherever she is! Jenny, she'll find us. You'll see." 

_Older now, the boy's fist collides with another boy's mouth, wiping the jeer off of his face. His sister hides her face in her hands, not wanting her brother to see her tears as weakness._

_"Oh, Jimmy," she whispers. "Are the bullies right? Are we really beggars, abandoned by mom and dad?"_

_Running up to the girl and hugging tightly, the boy whispers, "No! They said our dad is a great musician, and our mom is a famous singer! If I become a famous singer too, I can find Mom! I'm going to keep my promise, Jen."_

_The dreams of finding their mother consume the boy's mind, taking his life and passion with it. The girl sits alone in disbelief on the couch of their temporary cheap motel, the slam of the door resonating in her mind over and over again. The girl wants to search for her mother amongst the stars, while her brother still yearns to become one._

_"Do you know why Jim wants to sing? It’s because he wants to find his mother. He said he has to sing, so that maybe, just maybe, it would make your mother see him, wherever she is, and make her want to come back!"_

A tear began to roll down Jen's cheek; she wiped it off roughly. She couldn't destroy her brother's dream - not when it was hers once, too. 

_I don't know if this is the right thing to do, Mom,_ she thought, _but I hope this is what you would have wanted._

Taking out her own PADD from her bag, she composed a message to Pike: 

_**> >I'm going to do it. Thank you for everything. See you in a month.**_

~ 

Spock waited with Leonard and Pavel backstage, his eyes closed. If he concentrated on the steady pace of his heartbeat and the smell of incense from the candle slightly wavering in front of his mirror, he could almost block out the sound of the press clamouring for their appearance. It was a poor replacement for meditation, but there would be time for that when they returned from the press conference. 

Spock was not nervous. Anything but. However, concentrating on reigning in his emotions before seeing Kirk was advisable. 

James T. Kirk was undoubtedly one of the most talented singers to ever cross paths with Spock in his lifetime. Of course, an uncanny talent for vocals was not the only requirement of a satisfactory band member, and Spock would need more proof than one classic opera piece to prove the worth of Kirk as his colleague. Spock involuntarily experienced the emotion of excitement at the thought of singing by his side, but he forced himself to regain his emotional control through his current breathing exercises. It was difficult to concentrate on them with the enticing conversation between Leonard, Pavel, Nyota, and Mongomery taking place behind him. 

"How don't you know where Jim is, Scotty?" Leonard asked. "Aren't you supposed to know these things, since you're, I don't know, his _manager_?" 

"He's coming, alright?" retorted the Scotsman. "He said he's on his way. He just sent me a message ten minutes ago." 

"Are you sure he's okay?" Pavel asked. "Is he dissatisfied with the group? Does he still want be a part of StarKid?" 

"You are aware that he signed a legal contract, Pavel," Spock told him calmly. "He is obligated to appear at this press conference. If he does not, it will result in the consequences of his inevitable resigning and fine for breaking the contract. I am certain that he is aware of them, and that I cannot tolerate this lack of punctuality and dedication." 

Montgomery and Nyota shared panicked look, but Spock paid them no mind. His eyes were locked with Leonard's, who was seething at him across the room. 

"You're a heartless bastard sometimes, Spock, you know that?" he growled. "What if something happened to him? Besides, what did he ever do to you? He sing a little better than you or something?" 

Spock averted his gaze calmly, refusing to give the surly man the satisfaction of taking the bait. 

"Calm down, both of you," Nyota snapped, making the human men jump at the sound of her voice. "I'm positive that he's just running a little late after spending a little longer in front of the mirror. After all, Jim's not used to having to do anything for his looks." 

"Why isn’t Jim here with you?" came Manager Sulu's voice, as the man appeared at the entrance of the green room. "Where the hell is he? He's on in five! And you three are up in sixty seconds! Please get up, _right_ now, and go wait by the exit." 

Spock, Leonard, and Pavel complied, moving to stand by the exit of the greenroom that led to the walkway onto the press conference stage. With his superior Vulcan hearing, Spock was able to discern Sulu's harsh whispering. 

"Scotty, where the hell is Jim?" 

"He's going to be here before those five are up, sir," the Scotsman replied after a gulp. 

"Good, because if he won't be, neither will your stuff in your office tomorrow morning," he deadpanned. "Are you three ready? Okay, it's time! Walk, walk!" 

Spock was the first to step into the familiar light of the flash photography and incessant cheering, followed by Leonard and Pavel. While the other two raised a hand in greeting and offered partially genuine smiles, Spock remained stoic, refusing to fall to the level of human emotionalism to become more favourable for the crowd. No matter how much Nyota tried to coax him into walking in a looser "strut," as she called it, Spock did not attempt it. He preferred his talent to speak for him, metaphorically, not his cooperation with the crowd, or lack thereof. 

"And now, we present to you the new member of StarKid," an exuberant voice announced over the speakers. "A rising star in the night just like Spock, Len, and Pasha, he is a stunning sensation with the voice that transcends planets, solar systems, and galaxies, just to find its place in the hearts of all of you. Ladies, gentleman, and others... James T. Kirk!" 

The wild crowd, which had been whooping without a pause throughout the entire speech, chose exactly this moment to settle into silence, expectantly waiting for Kirk's appearance onstage. Spock waited alongside them, refusing to let himself indulge in the puzzled expression on the faces of the audiences illuminated by the stage lights. He realised that his judgement of Kirk's character had been correct, satisfyingly justifying the illogic of the the prejudice. 

When Kirk took his first steps down the staircase, slowly making his way onstage into the view of a completely new world, Spock knew that something akin to surprise flitted across his features for the briefest of moments. 

His suit, a polished white like those of the other StarKid members, hugged his lean, even fragile, frame in a way that brought attention to the most immodest of places and outlined his proportionally broad shoulders. The fingers that adjusted the immaculate tie and collar tantalising skimmed over his throat and smooth expanse of skin with the tips of their pads. His hair was shorter than their last encounter - trimmed, undoubtedly, yet still fluffy and disorganised above the forehead. It was as if Kirk had been running his hands through it to purposefully reduce it to an uncombed mess. His brilliant smile was a flash of stunningly white teeth. Combined with his raised eyebrows, it was a flirtatious and intoxicating combination of cocky and confident, leaving no room for the uncertainty that Spock saw flickering on his expressive face one week ago... And in those blue eyes. They were of a hue quite similar to what he could see during one of StarKid's tours from the Los Angeles hotel suite balcony, which overlooked the long expanse of an ocean that did not exist on his home planet. He had spent hours looking out beyond the horizon, a blue to contrast the desert red of Vulcan, feeling the slightly salty breeze play over skin without minding the distracting sensation. 

Once again, while staring into the blue, he could not look away. 

~ 

A woman waited patiently in front of the holo vid screen of her New York hotel room, watching the new member of StarKid make his way onstage. He waved a hand and smiled as widely as humanly possible, causing the audience to grow impossibly louder. He spun on his heel in three hundred sixty degree rotations, appearing enamored by the attention, the likes of which he had undoubtedly never seen before. 

The woman studied the young man calmly. If someone pointed out to her that it was serenity that she balanced on her shoulder, she would not be able to agree more. Only her grey eyes, once blamed for being too human to be acceptable, roamed Kirk's face enthusiastically, searching for something intangible: a connection. 

_It is his child,_ she thought. _Does he really resemble me?_

~ 

Riding in another fancy and undoubtedly priceless limousine after the press conference to what would be her temporary living space, Jen was still overwhelmed by the unexpected wave of appreciation that had almost knocked her off her feet onstage. 

And then Scotty led her into something Jen never thought she would see: Heaven. 

It was Heaven in a quite literal meaning. A two-floored, five-roomed suite was hard to come by in New York, but it existed for StarKid. And now it was there for Jen, welcoming her with open arms. 

She followed Spock, McCoy, and Chekov into the luxurious living quarters, trying unsuccessfully not to gape like a braindead fish. Without Scotty, who grabbed her shoulders and pushed her inside, she would not have taken more than a few steps in. She would have just stood in the doorway forever, waiting for Gaila or Pike or _someone_ to tell her that the multiverse was playing a really cruel and ugly joke on her. 

Theoretically, Jen knew that StarKid had enough money to afford Michael Jackson's diamond glove and create a home for a full shelter of kittens without being reduced to the status of millionaires. In practice, seeing immaculate leather couches, rugs that looked like they had been shipped straight from eleventh century Baghdad, beautifully placed sets of china in the roomy kitchen, and definitely a stylish designer's layout in every corner of the living room, Jen couldn't help but feel like a stupid farm hick that was thrust into some cruel twenty first century reality tv show called "The Switch." 

"You're fucking with me," she finally muttered. 

"We're really not," Bones told her casually. "We bought this suite when we decided that we were going to take in a fourth member. You get your own room to yourself." 

_Thank god for small miracles,_ she thought to herself, even though it wasn't small by any means. A suite that looked like it had been designed for God's own personal vacation to Earth would undoubtedly have room for Jen. It would be insulting to say that it would put her childhood house in Riverside, her little cot in the orphanage, and her half of the Academy dorms to shame, because it would be insulting to compare her previous living quarters to this flat in the first place. 

Using her voice identification - 'James T. Kirk' - to enter the room that was to the far right of the expansive corridor, which Bones said was the last available room, she saw that her assumptions were incorrect. 

The room wasn't only outside of possible gifts Jen deserved for her potetial life-altering accomplishments, but also outside of her scope of imagination. 

A queen-sized bed occupied a large portion of the top level of her room, which also held a mirror-doored closet, a desk, and an accessory shelf. The other level was only two steps below, leading to a sofa, a coffee table, a minibar, a holo vid screen, and a personal restroom. Nothing was completely personalised, as she hadn't even had the opportunity to see what kind of stereotypically masculine apparel Uhura had stuffed into the small suitcase that she had thrust into Jen's hands. However, the hue of the room was a light aquamarine colour, which made her smile slightly and imagine what her personal belongings would look like scattered across the room as if they belonged there. 

What stood out most, however, was the open balcony that overlooked the sea of skyscrapers and the city skyline that reached the unclouded stars. 

Belatedly, she remembered Uhura mentioning that StarKid owned several three-story beach houses in LA, which was when Jen literally couldn’t stand anymore. She let her knees give out and fell onto the bed with a flop. 

Jen had to use every ounce of force to prevent herself from squealing or wiggling around like a girl or jumping up and down on the mattress like a little kid. It was an expectedly difficult task. Jen sunk into the mattress, letting her worries and concerns soak into it. For a moment, she let herself believe that she was like Barbie in her dream house, and that life would always be as perfect as this. 

Shaking away her fantasies, Jen got up from her bed and walked to the balcony, marvelling at the view surrounding her. Even though it was fascinating to see the city lit up in its every corner, as if New York didn't even know what darkness was, the sky captured most of her attention. If Jim couldn’t be up there with the rest of the stars for the time being, Jen would do whatever she could to help him. 

Jen had kept Spock's PADD after she decided to follow Scotty’s plan and play Jim for a month, and she knew that now she only had to return it. Scotty and Uhura had already left the suite, and Jen didn't want to wait to hand it over and make them pretend that the female cadet had turned it in. Not to mention the fact that she would have to tell them the whole story, which she wouldn't choose to do _ever_ because of what an embarrassment it was. She was almost sure that Spock hadn't gotten a glance at her face at the space terminal, so he wouldn't suspect Jen to be that girl who had run away with his PADD. 

Damn, how was she going to explain it, though? Spock probably had an IQ too high for the human test to grade accurately, and he would most likely lead an investigation to sniff out all of his suspicions of Jen. 

After changing into a sweater and some sweats, she took the PADD and crept into the hallway. Spock's room was on the other side of the lower floor, while Bones and Chekov were on the top floor, which could be reached by an elegant staircase from the living room. It made it easier that Spock's room was down the hall, since she didn't have to creep past anyone else to get to it. She could hear distinct voices from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen, from which she was obscured from view. 

Thankfully, the sliding door to Spock's room was open. Even though she couldn't gather why, she cursed herself for not having a plan in the case that it were closed. She didn't have the authority to use an override code in this suite. She hadn't had one at the Academy, either, but there, she didn't particularly care if she unsettled someone by hacking into the computer system of their dorm room lock. But now, she wasn't planning on starting any intergalactic scandals by hacking into Spock's room. 

The room was starkly different from the rest of the light-coloured glamour of the suite. Jen hadn't know what to expect from Spock's room - hadn't thought about it, really, but she realised that she expected it to be less... personal. However, it was anything but. 

The walls were a deep tan colour, which fit nicely with the deep desert red of the carpeting, the sofa, and the thin sleeping mat that lay in the place of a bed. The walls were mostly bare, in contrast to the posters of different rock groups and musicians that decorated the living room, but a ceiling-high shelf of material on classical, opera, rock, electro, even pop, and composition stood by his desk. Even though not a speck was out of place, Jen could see the nearly stacked sheet music. Notes adorned the pages: they were Spock's compositions. 

"Why do you believe that it is acceptable to intrude into my quarters without my permission?" a calm voice suddenly asked, startling Jen out of her reveries and making her jump around to face him. 

Spock was wearing another grey robe, but it was looser than the one he had had on at the space terminal. It didn't have a hood or an interwoven scarf to cover his head or his face. Actually, it didn't seem to do much covering it all. It revealed the sharp edge of Spock's collarbone and was made out of a thinner material. It seemed as if Spock was wearing a human robe out of habit instead of wearing a traditionally Vulcan one to follow his people's principles. 

"I was just returning the PADD," she said, making up a story as she went. She flashed him a smile, thrusting the device into his hand. "Scotty told me about what happened. Apparently, the girl turned it in to the agency this morning." 

"Why did not Montgomery simply deliver it to me himself?" Spock asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. 

"Hey!" Jen said, pointing a finger at the Vulcan. "He's my personal agent, not yours. And besides, he's really scared of you." 

"Indeed?" Spock asked. Jen thought she could almost detect amusement in his eyes. 

"Yeah. He just thrust it into my hand and told me to give it to you when I had the chance," Jen said, spinning the wheels of her lie as fast as possible without toppling over. "So here I am. By the way, _you_ were the one who had your door open. Don't blame me for entering. Why was it open, if you didn't want anyone to come in?" 

"It was open for Leonard and Pavel, who expressed interest in looking over my new composition." Spock told her matter-of-factly. "You were not personally invited, yet you made your appearance in their place." 

"Fine, fine," Jen said, admitting defeat, strolling out of Spock's room. "You win." 

"This was not a competition," Spock informed her, following her out of the room, activating its lock behind him. "The situation with the cadet was most curious. I am interested in why she did not return the PADD to me in exchange for the pass she dropped. Since she eventually returned my device, her intentions could not have been theft. I searched for her at the space terminal with Leonard and Pavel's assistance until the allotted time for her transportation had passed. I sincerely wish that she had been successful in retrieving another pass." 

"Don't worry about it, Spock," Jen told him, feigning nonchalance. "There's nothing you can do about it now." 

As soon as Jen and Spock approached Bones and Chekov, who were bickering in the kitchen over the qualities of different vodka drinks, Scotty burst through the front door, almost collapsing on the rug in front of him. 

"I just..." he began, coughing. "I just ran here all the way from the agency offices. Phew! Thank god they're only a few blocks away." 

"What's wrong, Scotty?" Jen asked. 

"Sulu is throwing a party at this club nearby to celebrate Jim's first public appearance with StarKid," Scotty coughed out. "He wants us there ASAP!" 

"You didn't have to kill yourself over it, man," Jen muttered. "It's just a party." 

"You know the man'll have my head, if I have so much as a pinkie out of line," Scotty protested. "Come on now! Jim, Spock, put some suits on. The limo's waiting." 

~ 

Now, it wasn't common knowledge, but Jen wasn't a very good drinker. She had only turned twenty one on March 22nd, which was a little over a month ago. Pike had her fake ID taken away years ago, after she had stumbled drunk once into his office one evening, apparently muttering about quantum mechanics to try to explain the phenomenon of misogynist lesbians who judged her femininity at first glance. She knew she could have gotten a new fake ID, but she was didn't want to. She had done her share of fooling around and drinking herself into despair several times over. 

So when she finished her fifth glass of champagne, the growing pleasant buzz surrounding her whole body welcomed back her dearest love: the sensation of being absolutely wasted. 

Bones eyes her warily as she asked the waiter to bring over an Andorian martini, even though she had never tried one before. Spock, who apparently had a philosophical aversion to alcohol, loosely held a glass of pink lemonade, completely ignored Jen. Only Scotty, who gently tried to pry her champagne flute out of her hand, was interfering with her plan of getting even more drunk than she already was. She needed something that could take the edge off from the insanity that currently surrounded her. It wasn't fair: seventeen-year-old Chekov was nursing a vodka specially ordered for him by Sulu, and she wasn't even allowed to have champagne. 

Apparently, Scotty had been right to limit her alcohol consumption, because the martini turned out to be a terrible idea. Jen immediately felt nauseous after finishing it. It was a terrible feeling, and she needed to get out of here before she did something utterly terrible, like vomit all over Uhura's stunning red dress or her own über expensive galaxy print button down. 

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, ladies and gents," she said with a hiccup, abruptly getting up and sliding uncomfortably over Scotty's lap and out of the booth. 

She staggered down the hall, looking for some kind of bathroom or exit. But even if she'd see a door, it would be a lost cause, because the damn walls kept moving. Giving up, she sagged against the wall, trying to slow her breathing and calm her cramping stomach. 

"Are you okay, Jim?" came a voice to her left. She turned: it was Bones. 

"Yeah, Bones," she replied tiredly. "I'm just a little queasy. It'll pass." 

"You look like shit, Jim," he said in a concerned tone, coming to stand in front of her with a hand on her shoulder. 

"Wow, thanks," she barked back humourlessly, remembering that Bones was actually a doctor. 

"I'm serious. You're sweating. When was the last time you had a drink like that?" 

"Uh, like, two years ago," Jen confessed guiltily. 

Bones' eyes bulged out comically. "Are you insane? Why would you do that to yourself, drinking so much all of a sudden? Here, just let me unbutton your shirt, Jim; it'll help you cool down. I don’t think you can manage to do that yourself with those shaking fingers of yours.” 

Jen jerked away, pushing his hands as far away from her as possible. "Don't you dare touch me," she growled. 

Bones raised his open palms in defeat. "Fine, but then let's go get some air, okay?" 

After Jen nodded her consent, he led her down the hall and to the left, which was an exit to a short flight of stairs. They led to the roof, where Jen noticed Spock sitting on a bench near the railing, reading something on his PADD. A silly grin started spreading over Jen's face. 

"Spock!" she exclaimed drunkenly. "You're here! How did you get here?" 

Spock looked up at her with visible disapproval at having been interrupted, eyeing her swaying frame cautiously. 

"I retreated to the roof of the building after becoming dissatisfied with reading amidst a collection of inebriated humans," he retorted. 

"We get under your skin, huh?" Jen smirked. 

"Jim, I left my stuff at our booth," Bones told her urgently. "I have anti-toxic hypos with me. They'll help. I'll just run and get them. Spock, watch Jim for me, okay?" 

"I should not be responsible for Kirk's well being," Spock retorted, but Bones had already run off. 

Jen wandered over towards Spock, kneeling on the railing near the bench. 

"You hate me that much, don't you?" she muttered. Apparently, the thought upset her stomach, because she wasn’t getting great results. "Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick." 

Spock immediately stood up from the railing. From repulsion or worry, Jen couldn't tell. His expression was well guarded by his Vulcan stoicism. He looked at his own empty glass behind him. Appearing unsatisfied, he looked around him, noticing a flower pot near the bench. When he managed to somehow delicately rip out the flower with the soil and thrust the pot under Jen's chin, she understood his intentions. 

"Thanks," she managed, before grabbing the pot, turning away from Spock, and vomiting out practically everything in her stomach. 

She immediately felt better, even if still more than a little tipsy and unstable, but she knew that Spock was bound to be incredibly disgusted. She wandered over to the other side of the roof, where there actually was a small trash can, throwing the pot inside. 

"Thanks, man," she said with a weak smile. "Who knows where that would have landed, if you hadn't helped?" 

"Apologies are not necessary," Spock responded stiffly. 

"Oh, they sure are!" Jen insisted. "I know how Vulcans hate being ruffled by that sort of thing. You know, having your molecules of cleanliness being unsettled." 

Spock looked at her in puzzlement but did not have a chance to reply, since Bones and Chekov chose that moment to rush out onto the roof. 

"Leonard, Mister Kirk requires an anti-toxin hypospray," Spock told immediately. "I am positive that there is still a large dose alcohol in his bloodstream." 

"What do you think I'm doing, you hobgob- Jim! Don't- don't fucking do that, you drunk fool! That's dangerous!" 

Jen didn't listen to Bones, though, slowly rising from her crouch to an upright stance on the bench near the roof's railing. She could see the stars so clearly from here; she just wanted to be closer to them. She wanted to be among them all the fucking time. Why did they all want to take that away from her? 

"I can almost touch them, Bones," she whispered, reaching a hand towards the sky and throwing her balance dangerously askew. 

"I really think he is going to fall," Chekov commented nervously, rushing towards her, Spock and Bones following suit. 

Jen turned around, about to ask why all three of them were panicking, when suddenly, she was falling, falling, like a meteor rushing across the sky, like a ship going into warp and flying with white sails through space. 

_Jimmy,_ she thought as consciousness slipped away. _I dreamt a very strange dream._

~ 

_She is amongst the stars, seeing them zoom by her as she sails at warp factor six. She can see it all from where she is standing on the bridge: planets, stars, systems, galaxies, all rushing past her faster than the speed of light._

_There is a white light in the distance, brighter than the streak left behind her ship as it plummets through space. It is three particularly luminous stars, and they are right there, in front of her._

_The first bounds towards her; he is eager as he runs, his strawberry blonde curls bouncing slightly, leaving a trail of stardust in his wake. Clad in a golden tunic, it matches his almost childlike and radiant complexion._

_Behind him follows another. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, shaking his head like an adorable puppy, trying to rid himself of all the shimmers. A blinding white suit fits his body perfectly, and his perpetual frown is a stark contrast to it._

_Finally, she can see the final star. His blue robe leaves an iridescent glow in his wake. It trails behind him as he walked towards Jen, stepping on smaller stars to make his way towards her. She smiles as she stares into grey eyes capable of moving mountains, content._

Jen opened her eyes with a smile. _Am I still in Heaven?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Jen sings is of course [Music of the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w11Q381Ebgw&spfreload=10).


	2. Chapter 2

Jen opened her eyes and blinked away the bleariness of sleep. Her room still seemed like Heaven, and she was still basking in it. The large assortment of fluffy pillows that cushion her head, as well as the curtains that blocked out the sun’s rays from the balcony, was a small comfort to the familiar spurting headache of a hangover. Thankfully, a small medication set, consisting of a hypospray, a glass of water, and two pills, lied on her bedside table. _You'll be needing these. - McCoy,_ the note said. Jesus, Bones was a godsend. 

Jen took the medication, immediately sighing from relief as the hypo's medicine seeped in through her neck and quickly flooded through the rest of her body. It was a small reprieve from the gnawing pain behind her eyelids. It allowed her to get up onto her feet with only a wobble or two. After gulping down the pills with some water, Jen wandered over to the bathroom to take a leak. Maybe looking into the mirror to check if she looked like shit just as much as she felt like it wasn’t a particularly good idea; as soon as she saw her reflection, she jumped back instinctively, wincing as she as she took in the pitiful face that she saw staring back at her. Dark circles decorated her eyes, and her lip was mysteriously split, probably caused by something Jen did last night but wouldn’t be able to remember even if someone promised her her own Federation Constitution-class starship for revealing the details. Did she get into a fight with someone? Even though her eyes looked exhausted and unfocused, they were not framed by any developing bruises. She wracked her mind for a semblance of a memory. 

When she raised her fingers to her lips, she was suddenly assaulted with the horrible recollection of what she did while wasted: she had fallen off of the bench on the rooftop, and her lips had miraculously collided with someone else's. She counted her lucky stars that her mind had already shut down by that point, more or less, probably after it was assured that someone’s strong arms were there to catch her as she fell. 

Unfortunately, she didn't remember the owner of the lips that she had drunkenly collided with. Possibly even kissed. 

Completely mortified at the thought, Jen ran out onto her balcony, desperately praying that her sudden memory had not been reality, but was actually part of her dream about space and hot, starry men. God didn't answer her prayers, however: Jen knew that the flashback was too clear and vivid to belong to a dream. 

Someone knocked on the door, and Jen winced. That was probably him, the man she had probably almost sexually assaulted, seeking an apology from her. Jen wished it could have waited until later in the day, but this was not a circumstances in which she could make excuses, even to herself. She really needed to get her nerve back and beg for forgiveness. After making the decision to join StarKid on her brother's behalf, Jen wasn't ready to get kicked out over a drunken mistake. 

"Jim?" Chekov's voice sounded through the door. "You know you cannot hide forever, yes?" 

Jen opened the door, immediately noticing the pout on Pasha's usually sunny face. 

"I cannot help but be angry with you, Jim," he stated. "Are you completely unaware of the fact that alcohol should not be consumed in such large quantities, especially after you avoided it for such a long time?” 

"I'm really sorry, Pasha," Jen groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. "I promise it won't happen again. I mean, I actually did stop drinking, because I really sucked at keeping my shit down. I'm sorry I fell on your face and-" 

"It is not _me_ you should be apologising to," he responded with a frown. "It wasn't me that you practically assaulted last night." 

Blood flowed to Jen's face from embarrassment. "So, um, who?..." 

"The grumpy pants over there," Chekov responded, waving a hand over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “As you might see, he does not look particularly pleased this morning.” 

Rounding the corner of the hall, Jen swallowed nervously, almost choking upon seeing Bones making himself a cup of coffee. He _did_ look particularly grumpy this morning, with a scowl that was more ferocious than usual. She didn't want to believe her eyes. After everything he did to make her feel a little less shitty, it had to be him that suffered her clumsiness and stupidity? 

"Hey, Bones," she muttered, making herself a cup from the replicator, instead. She didn't want to steal his own freshly brewed coffee after the damage she had already done. 

"Hey," he replied gruffly. "Did you take the hypo? I knew you'd have a head-pounding hangover in the morning." 

"Yes, thanks so much," Jen rushed to say. "It really helped." 

When Bones didn't respond, Jen awkwardly began, "Listen, about last night-" 

She was interrupted by Chekov, who strode over to where they were standing and exclaimed, "Jim! What are you doing?" 

"I am _trying_ to fucking _apologise_ right now, Chekov, but for some reason, I am being rudely interrupted-" 

"Oh, no no no no," he stammered. "You misunderstand. I am sorry that I did not clarify: the grumpy pants I was talking about was Spock. He was in this room just a moment ago." 

"Oh, fuck no!" Jen groaned. "I snogged Spock? God, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, certain fucking _death_ has fallen upon me?" 

"Snogged?" Bones smirked. "Who said anything about snogging? No, you only wish that, Jimmy." 

"Wait, what do you mean?" Jen asked, puzzlement and dread flooding her. "What the hell happened?" 

"No kissing was involved, Jim," Chekov told her, shaking his head. "If that were the case, Spock would have simply removed you from his person with a few chosen words about the illogic of our human race." 

"You fell on top of him," Bones told her, a bitter grin spreading on his face. "Your mouths sort of collided? And then you vomited into his mouth." 

Some people, when thinking about the organisation of their minds, envisioned cabinets, shelves, and files, even if they did absolutely nothing to help the owner actually locate pieces of information from his or her mind. Others actually had the mental capacity and patience to construct mind palaces out of legitimate palaces. When Jen had the opportunity to be lost in thought, though, she always imagined hovering spheres, which she could pull towards herself and open. It wasn't the best mind palace to construct, but it worked well enough for memorising theorems for her Academy classes, as well as other meaningful knowledge that she would need to know during her lifetime. 

Now, hearing Bones’ words, every single sphere that she imagined hovering in her neural pathways fell from where they were orbiting in her mind. Her whole world destroyed, crashing and burning. 

"No," she croaked. 

"Oh yes," Bones argued. 

"You don't understand-" 

"I do understand, actually," Bones said in wry amusement. "I know _you_ know what repressed neat freaks Vulcan hobgoblins are, but it's different from actually living with one for a year. Do you know what happened after you puked? No, you don't remember. He _passed out_ , even though he'll argue with you about the terminology of that for hours and correct you every time you accuse him of fainting in the future.. Essentially, he went into a Vulcan healing trance from the intensely traumatic experience, which caused him to lose consciousness. That's as good as fainting in my book." 

Jen just stood there, at a loss for words. Or thoughts, since her brain hadn’t gotten back online yet. 

"What I suggest," Bones said thoughtfully, "is to approach Spock with a cup of Vulcan tea and the knowledge that he probably won't look at you for another five years, and beg for forgiveness, despite the fact that he'll tell you that apologies aren't necessary. Believe me - they are." 

"What about our working relationship?" Jen managed to ask. 

"Spock is a professional, so he won't put up a hissy fit in front of the cameras," Bones informed him. "But behind closed doors, he won't be keen on speaking with you. He could barely say a word to me when he rushed out to make tea this morning. He looked really... unstable. The tea is ready, so you can take it up to his room." 

"Bones, I really don't think-" 

"No, you really don’t think, Jim, especially before making decisions like getting drunk off your ass,” Bones pointed out. "You have to at least try to make amends with Spock." 

Bones poured hot water from the kettle into a cup filled with leaves, thrusting the cup into Jen's right hand and a burning incense candle into her left. 

"The incense helps him with meditation. He likes this scent best. Run along now. Make me proud." 

Not having a better idea, Jen dragged herself towards Spock's room. Standing in front of the sliding door to his quarters, she pressed the buzzer at the entrance tentatively. 

The door whooshed open, revealing a very expressionless, perfectly primed Spock. Every single hair was in place, and every single facial muscle remained stoically unmovable. Neither his features nor his eyes gave anything away, as if he were purposely hiding all of his emotions and thoughts from everyone, even those who knew him intimately. 

"Are you in need of something, Mister Kirk?" Spock asked, keeping his voice devoid fluctuation as well. 

"I poured you a cup of tea?" Jen said nervously, offering it. "I, uh, actually, no. Bones poured it, and I took it to you, because-" 

"Thank you," Spock replied, taking the steaming mug by the handle, carefully avoiding any physical contact between their fingers. When Jen didn't move away, however, he raised a single eyebrow. 

"Um, well, I've come to ask, beg, and grovel for your forgiveness," she offered. "May I come in?" 

"Apologies are unnecessary," Spock stated, as Bones had predicted, without stepping aside. "You were unconscious and thus unable to control your actions." 

"Stating that apologies are unnecessary is not the same thing as actually accepting my apology," Jen pointed out, trying not to become frustrated. 

"Recognising that your apology is unnecessary renders my acceptance of it illogical." 

"Your lack of cooperation, which includes accepting my apology, with the insecurities and needs of the human race proves your anger frustration, thus rendering the apology necessary and, indeed, logical!" 

"For a being as illogical as yourself, your logic is sound," Spock confessed. "Very well. I do not accept your apology." 

"Why not?" Jen asked, aghast and slightly hurt. She shouldn’t have been this surprised. 

"From the moment of our first meeting, I have been scolding myself for harbouring an automatic, prejudiced dislike for you," Spock bit out. "It is illogical to judge someone one does not know. However, as our brief acquaintance progressed, you proved yourself to be undedicated and foolish, not to mention a complete nuisance. I have no doubt that you will continue being persistently standing in my way in multiple areas of my life, as it now intertwines with yours. This will continue to illogically anger and frustrate me. Accepting your apology is pointless, as that will not stop you from bothering my person. Now, if you will excuse me, Mister Kirk, I require a shower to rid myself of any remnants of your bodily fluids and more than one hour of meditation to clear my mind from the violent emotions I am currently experiencing due to your unwelcome presence. Thank you for the tea." 

It was a dismissal and the most dismal rejection Jen had ever witnessed or received, and she had to hold herself together with the meager strength she had left to stop her spirit from deflating like a popped balloon. Bones had warned her that Spock wouldn't actually want to talk to her for awhile. She supposed that Spock telling her off meant that he wasn’t ignoring her, at least, but it was difficult to consider his harsh words as a victory. 

Startling out of his dismal thoughts, Jen realised that she had been staring in Spock’s wake. Jen noticed that the door didn't swish closed behind him after he receded into his room to leave for his personalised restroom. Spock had already turned up a water shower, completely oblivious to the fact that the door to his room still detected Jim's presence, which was in the three-inch distance from the doorway. If Spock knew that his quarters were being so blatantly revealed to Jen's curious eyes, he would have taken care of the problem by pushing her slightly away from the doorframe. Jen was smart enough to understand that her presence in Spock’s life was completely unwelcome in all circumstances, but for some reason, she still managed to ignore the gut feeling that going into Spock’s room right now was even a poorer idea than getting drunk last night. So when she realised that she forgot to give Spock the flavoured candle, which she was still gripping in her left hand, she quickly stepped inside. 

Jen wasn't planning on a disaster occurring - when was she ever? They just tended to happen where she was involved. When the candle wax sloshed over the side of the candle and onto her hand, her plans of making it out of Spock’s room without an accident broke down. 

The sizzling heat of the wax shocked her, causing her to simultaneously drop the candle onto the ground and jump back in shock, ramming her back straight into Spock's CD and book collection. The shelf that held it wasn't made out of a sturdy material such as wood or the like. Instead, it was metallic, thin, and fragile. As she pressed against it, a loose string on one of her shirt sleeves caught a metallic edge. When Jen pulled away, she took the shelf with her. 

Barely comprehending how this could even be happening, Jen looked on in horror at the sight of books, CDs, antique tapes, papers, and multiple PADDs falling onto the floor all around her. Trying to hold the actual shelf from toppling on top of her, she held its frame back with both arms, now having no available hands to unhook the snag of her shirt from the shelf’s edge. Fumbling was impossible, since it simply made more items fall onto the ground from behind her. Thankfully, the burning candle stood a little ways in front of her, and it remained untouched by the avalanche of Spock's things. 

As she tried to simultaneously lean the shelf back into a standing position and unhook the loose string on her sleeve, a page of sheet music fluttered down, this time landing too close to the candle for Jen's liking. She was ready to sob at the mess she created, because seriously? Who got these strokes of bad luck besides her? However, the candle was burning dangerously close to the paper, separated from it by only about a centimetre, and she knew that she needed to put the candle out. 

Eventually, she pulled herself out of a deep state of denial and admitted to herself that the only way to put the candle out without moving or knocking over anything else over was to spit. Spit into the candle, which was sitting on Spock's exquisite rugs. Spitting would undoubtedly ruin those, too, alongside his previously organised shelf of collections. 

It took her four tries to spit right at the candle, successfully putting it out. Thankfully, her brother had taught her how to spit the “manly” way, over a considerable distance, which made it possible for her to succeed at all. While she was trying to pass her ordeal, however, she noticed neither the shower being turned off nor the swish of the bathroom door, which opened just as her fourth spit ball flew across Spock's room. 

"You are spitting onto my floor." 

It wasn't a question, but it also wasn't a completely correct statement. Jen's head shot up to look at Spock and correct him, but what she saw made her pull up short. 

Spock stood in the doorway with only a towel wrapped low around his hips. A trail of water dripped from the crown of his head to the dip of his lower abdominal muscles, following a trail of black hair past the towel. Flushed completely green, he silhouetted the steamy room behind him. His eyes were stormy, parallel to the snarl that blossomed at his lips. 

"I'm really not doing that just for kicks," Jen told him eventually, voice cracking. "I was trying to put out the candle. It's just the candle doing all this crazy shit, Spock, not me. Even I never pull these kinds of stunts." 

Spock slowly walked towards her, stepping around all of his fallen belongings and taking in the site of his destroyed room with a calculating gaze. Jen worried that he was trying to figure out how much damage Jen actually did, only to do twice that to her in payback. Eventually, he stopped less than a foot away from her, his eyes boring into hers. 

"Explain yourself immediately, Kirk," he growled. 

"Bones told me the candle would help you with your meditation," Jen said as lightly as possible. Then, at a whisper, "I'm sorry." 

"Apologising more than once is illogical!" Spock snapped, completely losing his cool and slamming his hand against the shelf less than two centimetres away from Jen's ear. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she felt almost sick from both the fear and unexpected arousal that hummed through her whole body. 

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain bloom from the crown of her head, and she couldn't help the small sound that escaped her. Spock's fuming eyes melted away. 

~ 

Spock had been too focused on the anger that Kirk brought out within him and on making him understand the extent of his exasperation to notice one of his most prized artefacts falling off of the shelves above the human's head. His attention was too focused on his emotions, and he did not react to its descent. 

Even though Kirk had not taken Spock's implied instruction to leave, Spock did not have the intention of inflicting dire harm upon the man. The disorder and chaos that Kirk had caused in the room was extremely disturbing to Spock, but he would never punish the man by dropping a heavy artifact atop his head. 

Kirk had slouched unto himself at the foot of the shelf. Because the sleeve on his right wrist was still attached to it, his hand was dangling above him. Red, human, iron-based blood trickled slowly from inbetween the part of his golden hair, marginally staining it. Feeling for a pulse at his throat and wrist, Spock held back a sigh of relief at the knowledge that Kirk’s body was still undergoing satisfactory metabolic functions. 

He was about to perform a gentle meld to assess the state of Kirk's mind, when Leonard and Pavel burst into the room. 

"We heard a crash," the doctor said by a way of explanation, kneeling next to Spock with a tricorder. 

"Actually, we heard several crashes earlier on, but someone shouted this time," Pavel elaborated. "Did you beat him up for saying sorry, Spock? _Боже мой!_ I feel so guilty! I was the one who first told him to apologise!" 

"I absolutely did not attack Mister Kirk," Spock responded with bit back frustration. "The impact was caused by the fall of the miniature figurine of Surak, which with the last of my belongings atop the shelf that Kirk had knocked over. I am certain that he will confirm this once he awakes. A light meld with him will help me gauge the state of his mind and see whether hospitalisation or simple Vulcan healing will be best." 

Leonard looked up at Spock in alarm and panic, which Spock noticed before the man’s emotions were masked behind a frown once again. 

"Your reaction suggests that you believe me capable of inflicting harm upon his mind," Spock interpreted, positively furious. "I am appalled by your implication. I am Vulcan: to mentally harm someone is an unspeakable offence, and I have no intention of doing so." 

"Take a hike, Spock," Leonard told him. "You've done enough damage to Jim already. You've detested him from the moment you met, angry that he turned out to be good enough for you. He was trying to apologise to you, for god's sake, not destroy your room. And he didn't vomit on you on purpose. Just give him a break, and maybe he'll stop tripping over his own feet. I'm going to take him to the hospital." 

Spock's peace, privacy, and personal hygiene had been disturbed by a living embodiment of illogic, yet _Spock_ was the recipient of Leonard's unpleasant reprimands. It was completely unjust. 

"Very well," he responded, standing and retreating to the kitchen. He watched as Leonard and Pavel rushed out of the suite, the former carrying the unconscious Kirk in his arms. 

~ 

Jen woke slowly, blinking up at Bones' concerned face. 

"What the hell happened?" she groaned, trying to sit up, which was kid of impossible, given that she was embarrassingly dangling from Bones’ arms. "By the way, I am perfectly capable of walking." 

"You wrecked Spock's room, which made him angry and caused him to accidentally knock some Vulcan voodoo toy onto your head," Bones responded, setting Jen gently on the ground, but not letting go of your shoulder. "You're probably still a little wobbly." 

Looking around, Jen realised that they were making their way towards the lobby of their building. 

"Are you trying to take me to the hospital or something?" she asked, trying not to panic. "I really don't need an ambulance. I'm fine." 

"Oh really?" he smirked, letting go of Jen completely without moving too far away. She immediately stumbled, but both Bones and Chekov supported her from both sides. "I did call the ambulance, and they're supposed to be here at any moment." 

"Aren't you a doctor, Bones?" she asked. "Just give me over-the-counter medicine and let me sit down." 

"I ran out of treatments for headaches after I administered the hangover hypo to you, but it’s true that the tricorder didn't register even a minor concussion," Bones mused. “I'd say that you're fine. We'll call the ambulance off. But you were unconscious for a longer than I was comfortable with, so I had to take some precaution." 

At that moment, Scotty busted through the doors, as out of breath as per usual, running up to the three of them. 

"Spock messaged me, explaining what happened," he explained. "Why can't you three take care of Jim for me? He's fragile!" 

"Fragile?" Jen scoffed. "Say that to my fist later." 

"There's an ambulance parked outside," Scotty said nervously, questioning Jen with his eyes. "Now that your conscious, do you still need it?" 

"Nope," Jen answered. She wasn't stupid: she knew that going to the hospital meant unnecessary probing and an inevitable discovery of her female bits. "I just need an Advil and a Hello Kitty bandaid, and then I'll be as good as new." 

"Actually, I have those with me," Bones said with a grin, rummaging around in his pockets. 

"Once a doctor, always a doctor, or something like that, huh?" Jen asked. 

"Something like that," he said softly, passing him a plain bandaid and a pill. Scotty supplied her with a water bottle. 

They had moved to the corner of the lobby, where Jen rested on a soft, cushioned couch, when her communicator beeped suddenly. She almost forgot that she had it with her in the pocket of her loose trousers, but she opened it now. Even though she didn't recognise the caller's number, she answered it anyways. 

"Hello? Who is this?" 

_"This is Spock,"_ came the reply from the other end. 

"Spock?" Jen asked incredulously. Bones, Chekov, and Scotty all looked at her intently, as if worried that another fight was suddenly going to explode over the phone between them. She waved them away. 

_"I am relieved to hear learn that you are conscious. Have you arrived at a hospital?"_

"No, it's fine. I just took an Advil, and I'm sure that the pain will abate soon. We're sitting in the lobby with Scotty right now, if you want to come join us and have a heart-to-heart or something." 

_"That will not be necessary,_ Spock replied, and Jen grinned at his slightly baffled tone. _"I simply wish to ascertain that you are aware of the fact that I did not harm you intentionally, am ashamed that I allowed my anger to take control of my actions, and did not purposefully let the figurine of Surak drop onto the crown of your head."_

Jen couldn't help it - she started laughing. To prevent it from becoming either hysterical or girly, she had to cut it off with a cough. "I know you're trying to properly apologise, Spock, but you don’t have to. I know that you’re obviously not at fault here. In fact, _I_ should be the one doing the apologising. Again. If I were in your place, I'd probably get much more angry. I'm really sorry for your room. I'll help you clean up later, if you'll let me." 

_"Your assistance is unnecessary,"_ Spock replied. _"Please inform the others that I am 'not at fault here,’ as well."_

With that, he ended the call, leaving Jen to stare longingly at her communicator. 

"Uh oh," Scotty suddenly voiced. "Sulu's just asked to tell you four to come to his office. Apparently, a video of some of the events of last night somehow surfaced online. People are speculating that there's been a fight. You better go clear things up with him and put the man's mind at ease. He's really notorious for making sure his group is being professional." 

"Christ, people!" Jen shouted to the whole lobby at large, causing some startled faces to look in her direction. "There weren’t any goddamn fights!" 

"Calm down, please," Scotty begged, "and watch the video he linked me to, instead." 

It was dark in the video, but the four of them were clearly visible. While Bones carried Jen over one shoulder, he simultaneously helped Chekov drag Spock's thin yet sturdy build into the limousine parked outside of the bar they had attended. 

"It doesn't look that good, does it?" Scotty prodded. 

"Fine," Jen agreed. "Is Spock coming with us?" 

"I'll message him to show up, too," Scotty replied, already typing away on his PADD. "The agency offices are only a few blocks away, but you're going to take a car there, or else you'll get flooded by fans. Spock has a hover car, by the way, so don't worry about him." 

"A hover car?" Jen asked jealously over her shoulder, as Bones began to pull her away. "Can I get a hover bike, then?" 

~ 

The fangirls who perpetually hovered around the agency offices were thankfully shooed away by the bodyguards who accompanied Jen, Bones, and Chekov, granting them an easy entrance into the Star Agency building. Still, Jen was a fool to think that all trouble ended behind its closed doors. As soon as she entered, some snapped a few photos right in her face, the flash blinding her. 

"What the hell, man?" she asked the Romulan reporter in front of her, who was smiling slyly. "Don't you know of a thing called _privacy_? Even people like myself value it, believe it or not, especially since we never experience it outside the safety of their homes. How would you like it if I sent someone to spy on _you_ spying on _me_?” 

"Are you feeling exceptionally aggressive today, Mister Kirk?" he asked sleazily. "I see that you have a bandaid on your forehead. Did you perhaps gets into a fight with Mister Spock? Where is he, by the way?" 

"My relationship with Spock and what he does during the day should remain none of your business," Jim growled. "But if you must know for your little online lies, Spock didn't hit me. Of course he didn't hit me. Spock is a professional and a gentleman, who deserves every single fan he has and all of the respect they offer him." 

"Thank you for the assertive statement, Mister Kirk," came Spock's voice from behind her. She spun around, automatically embarrassed at having been caught saying these heartfelt things in front of the man who probably detested her guts more and more by the minute. 

"He speaks truthfully," Spock continued. "No fight has occurred between us. Please desist with this blatant invasion of our privacy." 

The reporter hurried away, leaving the four StarKid members staring at each other intently. Well, it was mostly Jen doing the cowering, Spock doing the glaring, Bones doing the concerned older brother look, and Chekov doing the squirming. 

"I am most displeased with the events of today," Spock told her. "With the its current progress, I shall not be surprised to see many reports by the end of the day of a tragic accident having occurred.” 

"Hey, that's not nice," Jen said angrily, pointing a finger at his nose. "Your use of sarcasm, despite being a good communication tool for human social circles, is not appreciated right now." 

"I have no interest in mingling in the human spheres of socialisation that do not include my responsibilities as the leader of StarKid. Especially not when even my required social sphere includes humans such as Manager Sulu, who has decided to meet us instead at our suite instead of here, refusing to wait for us at his office. Our trip here has been pointless, as he is currently wait for us in our flat with Mongomery. 

Spock spun around on his heel, practically storming out of the building. Jen was quick to follow, with Bones and Chekov behind. Two bodyguards flanked them, preparing to ward off any screaming young women. 

"You know you can just call him Scotty, right?" Jen shouted over the usual commotion outside. 

"I do not think that would be advisable," Spock responded without turning around. 

"If you call everyone by your first time, why can't you call me by mine?" Jen protested. 

"I suggest you cease speaking, Mister Kirk, before this conversation manages to provoke an intergalactic incident." 

~ 

Christine Chapel scrolled down the newsfeed on her PADD, marking all of the her unread articles on StarKid for later. One particular title caught her attention however, and all of the alarms went off Spock-centric heart: _Trouble in Paradise?_

Unlike most of her subordinates at the StarKid United Ultimate Support Group, which she herself started online a year ago, she was never particularly pro the addition of James T. Kirk to the band. She could never place her finger on the superstitious feeling in her gut, so she managed to shrug it off as just that: superstition. And being superstitious was completely illogical. To win Spock's heart someday, she needed to be the queen of logic. 

Kirk was quite handsome, she had to agree, but the photos from the press conference made Kirk appear like a cocky bastard, as if he deserved to be on that stage more than the three original members of StarKid. Spock would tell her that judging someone she had never met was illogical and not of the Vulcan Way, so she ignored her nagging thoughts for the time being. But now, reading the article of infamous Reporter Nero, Christine could _finally_ prove to her internal Spock voice that she was right about Kirk! 

_After going out for a celebratory drink on the night of their successful press conference, the young members of StarKid were seen going home - but instead of four members, there were two and two halves! Together between the two of them, McCoy and Chekov dragged Kirk and Spock to their private limousine. While at first it may seem that the latter two had a little too much to drink, readers, you must remember that Spock is completely opposed to alcohol and any other means of intoxication. In addition, Vulcans have superior control of all parts of their physiological symptoms that can prevents them from fainting due to meager causes, such as dizziness or poor blood circulation. Kirk was seen today with a head wound. He exhibited hostility, especially in the presence of Spock. Did a fight truly take place between the two most discussed members of StarKid? And if so, will they patch things up before their conflict gets in the way of their working relationship and makes the group fall apart?_

Christine gaped at her PADD, affronted and extremely angry. It was ludicrous! How could Spock have let someone as bloodthirsty and aggressive as Kirk come into StarKid and screw everything up? These problems never happened before Kirk got here. 

Christine didn't care that she wasn't technically part of StarKid. She was the official Spock's Princess, StarKid's Queen, Leader of the StarGirls United Ultimate Support Group, and her voice would be heard. 

She wanted Kirk out. 

Clicking the speed dial on her comm and waiting until she was patched through, she calmly ordered, "Code Red Emergency. Time to go shopping for posters: we're organising a protest." 

~ 

Pavel sat beside Jim on their way back to their own building, which was really a short ride. Frankly, he was quite tired of running back and forth all day today, and Jim didn't seem extremely pleased with it, either. He had a blank, faraway look in his eyes, as if he were thinking back to something in his past. Nostalgia was often a depressing thing to observe, since it was almost impossible to offer anything to the person experiencing it in consolation. Pavel often thought of his family in Russia, with whom he had not spoken for almost four years now. They had been devastated by his transfer to Berkley, and despite his fame throughout the Federation, they had not replied to his calls. 

Pavel wondered what Jim was thinking about now. He hoped his story was not as pain-inflicting as his own. 

Leonard seemed to feel the awkwardness in the vehicle, too, so he attempted to make conversation with Jim. Pavel noticed with a surprising twinge of jealousy that the two had made close friends immediately. Jim had even taken to calling Leonard "Bones,” which always cleared the frown away from the older man's face. Now, Jim was responding with one word answers, as if it were difficult for him to find the energy to continue a proper conversation. 

Leonard gently brushed his fingers over Jim's plastered scar, probably concerned that it was causing him pain that Jim denied experiencing. But before his fingers could even graze his forehead, Jim flinched away, his shoulder colliding with Pavel's. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Leonard asked with a frown. 

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine," Jim responded with a sigh. "I was just lost in thought." 

"You should be careful of your reactions to people trying to touch you," Leonard said casually. 

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, his eyes flicking nervously to Leonard's face. 

"Flinching away might make it seem like someone actually punched you," the ex-doctor elaborated patiently. Jim immediately relaxed, not catching the significant look that the older man aimed at him. Pavel did, but he couldn't identify it. 

What a strange, interesting person Jim was. People often told _Pavel_ that he was feminine, but Jim was even more so, in a way Apparently having turned twenty one recently, Jim was almost four years older than him, but it was obvious that his puberty hit even later than Pavel's. His voice was a little higher than his, and it rose when he became exasperated. He even sang as high as the lead singer of the twenty first century group Sleeping With Sirens, which was unique and stunning. He wasn't stick-thin, but he was slimmer shorter in stature than all three of them. Even his shoulders, which were visibly wider than his waist and hips, seemed fragile in comparison to theirs. 

Pavel knew that he had spent his life in an orphanage in Riverside, Iowa, with his sister, with whom he had apparently broken ties. The poor living conditions that must have led to nutrient deprivation were probably the cause of his stunted growth. Pavel just wanted to hold him tightly and feed him all of the delicacies in the world. 

But still, his crappy childhood should not be an excuse for destroying Spock's room! It was practically Spock’s haven, and the only place that was previously protected from chaotic human beings. He knew that Spock would be too uncomfortable to say anything more to Jim, so it was up to Pavel to say something about it. 

"Jim, I know that Leonard will defend you against Spock's wrath, because he is very kind like that," Pavel began as they entered the elevator of their building, "but I think it is my place to defend Spock, instead. I know that you didn't intentionally make everything fall down, but you need to be more careful, since he really values the time and places that he has to himself." 

"I know, I know," Jim responded with a sigh, looking weary and tired. "I'm going to clean up right now, if he's not there yet." 

"You know, I really don't think that is a good idea," Pavel began, but Jim was already following Leonard through the door of their home. He really wanted to make his point, however, which is why he gently took hold of Jim's wrist, completely forgetting the man's reaction to being touched. 

Jim yanked his wrist out of Pavel's grip in an extreme effective manoeuvre and whirled to face him, causing Pavel to stumble towards him. He crashed into Jim's chest, bumping the latter into the door behind him. He caught himself with a hand on the door frame just before squishing Jim would have been inevitable. 

Pavel's heart, which was already racing, did a professional somersault that was as good as a Russian Olympic gymnast’s flip. He couldn't fathom why, probably because he couldn't string two thoughts together, but he wanted the moment to last forever. But Jim only looked up at him with frightened eyes before gently righting them upwards and skirting inside their flat. 

Pavel stood there for a few moments longer, catching his breath, before he could follow inside. 

~ 

It was only the first full day of Jen's life with StarKid, and she was already beginning to feel depressed. She should have believed Woody Allen when she first watched his movies, when he said that life was divided into the horrible and the miserable. If she was miserable in a suit worth several million credits in the middle of this surreal life that any girl would have sacrificed a kitten for, then she would probably never find happiness anywhere. 

But she wasn't just any girl. She had grown up in an orphanage with dreams about captaining spaceships; she had vomited into Vulcans' mouths and had almost set fire to their rooms; she had screamed at the paparazzi about privacy. She wasn’t just normal, whatever normal was, and so she just wanted to go back to Starfleet. 

Jen was almost positive that there wasn't much left in Spock's room for her to ruin. There was probably still a mess on the ground, though, and it was a mess that she could fix and make Spock like her a little bit more. 

While Bones and Chekov left to the balcony to talk to Scotty and Sulu, who were already there, she crept quietly to Spock's room. She both buzzed and knocked, but there was no reply. Not even a, "Computer, identify caller." She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. 

As quickly as possible, she began rewiring the computer identification system on the miniature computer screen near the door. She was out of practice and frustrated with Spock that he had even set such unnecessary precautions, but she managed to finally hack into the system and rewire it. The computer opened the door for we when she asked. 

Spock would be back at any moment. Even though the door had closed behind her, blocking her from his sight, he could head straight to his room after returning home. He would probably do that, actually. She had to work quickly. 

Spock had already begun placing his belongings back onto the shelves before being interrupted by Scotty's message. Even though at first, she couldn’t guess how Spock would want his things to be organised, she realised that the CDs and books were separated, both of the collections stacked in alphabetical order. As she rummaged through the things that were still on the ground, she stacked them in that order on the floor without actually placing them on the shelf, just in case she was mistaken. 

Spock's collection was something to be admired. CDs and books were a rarity in the twenty third century, and yet Spock seemed to own all of the classics from long before his time. Even though Jen preferred her purchased material in digital format, since it was easier to carry with her on her PADD, she enjoyed occasional physical proof of her belongings. Spock, though, seemed to have a copy of everything: from Dickens to Dostoevsky to Whitman, from Michael Jackson to The Lord of the Rings Symphony to Pink Floyd. The collection left her in awe. 

When she was almost done with organising stacks of Spock’s things, Jen noticed a CD that had slid partially under Spock's desk. The woman on its cover wasn't young, but she was strikingly beautiful in an ethereal way. "Amanda Grayson,” the cover read. Jen recognised her name from her childhood, when kids from the orphanage occasionally listened or talked about her greatest hits that they heard from the radio, but she had never seen a photo before. The woman had deep grey eyes, which reminded her of a painting of the ocean on a stormy day. They stirred something within her. 

Wondering if Spock was a fan, she felt compelled to open it, wondering if a track list or the actual CD would give her the answers. Instead, a single photograph fell out, and Jen stared at it in shock. 

It was a picture of the woman, looking about the age that she was on the CD cover. A young boy held her hand with a grumpy expression, the tips of his pointy ears turning slightly green and his uplifted eyebrows furrowing. His eyes were the same shade of grey as hers. 

It was undoubtedly Spock. 

_Oh my god,_ she thought, sitting back on her heels slowly. _Is Spock...?_

She didn't get a chance to think it though, however, because at that very moment, the door open behind her, revealing Spock, who practically ran towards her as soon as he saw her. She stood up immediately, leaving the CD and photo completely forgotten. 

"You," he growled, yanking her away from his stuff by the arm. He didn't continue. He was actually too angry to continue his sentence. She would have to rethink her "nothing to lose" assumption. There was always her life. 

"Me, yes, me," Jen began, stuttering. "I, yes, I've been cleaning. I organised your stuff into alphabetical stacks, but nothing else -" 

"You hacked into the computer system to enter my room without permission," Spock said, his voice rising marginally, before stopping and visibly calming himself. "I apologise for misspeaking. You hacked into the computer system to enter my room after receiving specific instruction _not_ to do so, and now you are rummaging through my personal, private belongings. This is beyond completely and utterly unacceptable." 

"I wasn't _rummaging_!" Jen shouted back, indignant, hoping that Spock hadn’t seen the way she had just been sitting back on her heels and staring at a CD just now. "Can't you just look around and see that I was _organising_? I was trying to fix my mistakes! I was trying to _help_!" 

"Vulcans do not want," Spock told her ominously. "Vulcans also do not _not_ want. But my patience for you has been driven to its end, and I simply do not care that I now vehemently do _not want_ your help!" 

The shouting that passed between them had apparently been heard throughout the whole suite, because Bones, Chekov, Scotty, and Sulu came running in a moment later. Seething, Spock's head snapped towards them. 

"What the hell is going on here?" Sulu asked, crossing his arms. "Scotty told me that you two weren't fighting." 

"Weren't _physically_ fighting, sir, Scotty squeaked, completely ignored. 

"This," Spock began slowly, pointing at Jen, "this human, loud, intrusive, obnoxious, intolerable, disrespectful being was in my room against my permission, despite the disaster he had already caused." 

"Honestly, Spock, he was just trying to-" Bones began, but to no avail. 

"I do not care!" Spock exploded. "Manager Sulu, if you do not find another living space for Kirk outside of this flat, then I will leave and find personal quarters elsewhere, where they will not be violated in this manner. I cannot tolerate my privacy being completely disregarded and constantly invaded." 

Jen stared at Spock in horror, her jaw dropping. This was like being in a lucid dream, where she couldn’t move her body, because it was in a dream state, with her mind still awake. What was going on around her was completely outside her scope of comprehension, and her brain continuously threw the thought of "this shouldn't be happening" to the forefront of her mind. Because Spock actually _moving out_ because of her was not part of Scotty's plan. Was Spock even being serious right now? 

When Sulu didn't respond, only frowning in disappointment, Spock started to pack. 

He was dead fucking serious. 

Jen jogged out of the room, feeling a prickling sensation in her nose and behind her eyelids. She needed to leave as soon as possible before anyone noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. God, but she couldn't help it. When someone blatantly hated every single molecule in her body, her oestrogen inevitably acted up, and she couldn't help but cry. 

Scotty followed her, entering her room before the door had a chance to close. 

"I can't do this anymore, Scotty!" she exclaimed as soon they were relatively out of earshot, letting her tears spill over her face. "I mean, I won't quit now, I know I can't, but I'm just screwing up everything here. What if Jim comes back to his completely fucked up reputation? God, I'm not cut out for this dramatic shit. This never happened at the Academy. And even if it did happen right under my nose without my noticing, I didn't care enough to fucking cry over it!" 

"There _is_ a bright side to all of this, actually," Scotty mused, gently putting his arms around her. 

"Oh yeah?" she asked, burying her nose into his shoulder. 

"Aye. I know you think Spock hates you, but he doesn't. Probably not. Spock isn't a hateful person; he just needs to cool off a tad bit. And while he's cooling off, he won't be able to find out that you're a girl. Vulcans are incredibly perceptive, which is partially due to their touch telepathy. He has his mental barriers up most of the time, but if they're down at anytime, and you make physical contact, he'll have involuntary insight into your feelings and thoughts." 

"Oh god, I never thought about that," Jen muttered. "I mean, I knew about the touch telepathy, but it completely flew out of my head when I came here… Spock's like, actually a genius, isn't he? If he can't see it, I must be doing a great job." 

"You really look a lot like your brother, Jen. You could be identical, if two opposite-sex identical twins existed. With those sideburns taped on, only those who know you're a girl can tell." 

"That's a relief," she sighed. 

"And another good thing, Jen, is that because of the whole commotion over the video, some fanatical girl started a protest against you, which has shot your name up to the top of Earth's current trends. If your mum is looking for you, it'll be tons easier for her now." 

"But only if," she said with a sniff. 

"Don't cry, lassy," Scotty said sympathetically. 

"Lassy? What are we, in Scotland?" Jen joked. 

"There we go!" he exclaimed, relieved at her slightly lifted spirits. He clapped her on the shoulders before letting her go. 

When she entered the living room, Spock had already left. His door was closed, probably locked with ten different combinations, each one more difficult to unlock than the next to keep his stuff out Jen's snoopy fingers. Sulu, Bones, and Chekov sat together on the sofa of their living room. In the armchair across from them, however, sat a middle-aged man, looking at the other three men with hostility. There was obvious tension in the room, mostly caused by the three bodyguards standing stiffly at three different corners of the living room. 

He was vaguely familiar, as if Jen had known him once. That was weird, since she didn't have anyone in her life outside of the Academy except for her brother. There was a reason they were dumped in an orphanage. 

The man had short brown hair and a sweaty red face. His sunken red eyes immediately gave away that he had been drinking heavily in the last twenty four hours, and his dirty jeans and t-shirt made him look like a farm hick who had just hopped on a plane and flew here with his last savings. 

A farm, like the one in Iowa. Huh. 

"Frank?" she asked quietly. 

He turned to face her, a little guiltily. "Hi, Jim. Do you remember me?" 

"Sure I do," she responded lightly, walking to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of something strong. The others' eyes followed her. "I remember how you left me and my br- sister at the goddamn orphanage, that's what I remember!" 

"Jim-" 

"This man provided his photo and fingerprint identification as Frank Kirk, your father's brother," Sulu cut in. "He insisted to see you, claiming that your family ties were important. But I have to ask you: is it okay for him to be here?" 

"No," Jen bit out. 

"Gentlemen," Sulu said to the bodyguards. They moved towards Frank to lead him out of the room. He stood willingly, but two of the guards grabbed his shoulders anyways and pushed him in the direction of the exit. 

"We're family, Jim!" he exclaimed. "You can't kick me out of my life completely! At least I didn't abandon you on the streets like your mother!" 

_If we were family, you'd know who I really am, Frank,_ she thought bitterly. 

When the door closed behind him, Jen slumped onto the sofa next to Bones. 

"I'm sorry for letting him in, Jim," he said. "I would have protested if I knew the story behind it. You really didn't need this on top of everything else that happened today." 

"He is just a drunkard who wants to use his connection to you for fame," Chekov commented matter-of-factly. 

"Believe me, guys, I know," Jen replied with a sigh. "And just when I thought that today couldn't get any worse." 

~ 

Kirk was like a dust particle in a meticulously cleaned room. 

Incorrect. Kirk was like a dust particle stuck on the sensitive skin within the nostril. A single dust particle, with no place there. 

A billion of dust particles. 

An extremely thin yet annoying ray of light, seeping through the curtains of his window at the very start of dawn. 

He was like a Vulcan desert tornado, destroying everything in its wake. 

Spock knew that he was unable to accurately classify the level of Kirk's irritating qualities, but he could not admit to himself that he was composing impromptu poetry about the human to try to do so. 

Contrary to the now unanimous belief amongst the Star Agency, Spock did not hate Kirk "with the burning passion of a thousand suns.” He was simply appalled at the man's ability to overturn every aspect of Spock's life, from his professional to his personal. Separate living quarters, whether temporary or permanent, would give them time away from one another and their drastically different Ways. 

He had chosen a single-roomed flat a few streets away from the Agency, as it was illogical to waste credits on living space that he would not occupy. Despite not planning to reside there for the time being, Spock planned on continuing to supply part of his credits to pay for the suite. 

Spock noticed that his thoughts were focused mainly on Kirk, which confused him: it would be more logical to put all thought of him aside to set his mind at ease. However, Vulcans were capable of keeping multiple trains of thought simultaneously without being distracted from their surroundings or any tasks at hand, which was why Spock did not fail to recognise the woman who entered the building's elevator after him. 

"Hello, Spock," Amanda Grayson said calmly. "I hope you’ve been well." 

"Peace and long life, Madame Grayson," he responded, careful of keeping his voice devoid of emotion. "Hoping has nothing to do with my well-being. It is my abilities and dedication to my progress in my career that secure me with prosperity in all areas of my life." 

"You continue to speak to me as if I were a stranger," she commented, turning to face him. He could detect a longing in her eyes, but it was as unreciprocated as it was unwelcome. 

"You continue to speak as if you are on Vulcan and need to prove yourself to my people by attempting to live by Surak's principles," Spock replied coldly. "Be careful, ma'am. I would not be pleased if there were to be evidence of us conversing in informalities on the topic of personal matters." 

"I don't want to hide our relationship from the public anymore, Spock," she insisted. 

"It is not your reputation, or lack thereof, of which I am speaking. It is of mine. I do not wish for the matter of my childhood to be revealed to the public. It is what humans, with the exception of yourself, would call depressing and unfortunate." 

When the elevator stopped at his floor, he raised his hand in a _ta'al_ and stared into the grey eyes that were responsible for his own too human ones. "Live long and prosper." 

Meditation was a painful substitute to succumbing to the quivering of his fingertips or the burning sensation behind his eyelids. 

~ 

Leonard was now almost one hundred percent positive that Jim was a woman. 

He knew he was more perceptive than your average guy. Even Spock couldn't tell, and he was the furthest away from average between the three of them. Thankfully, Spock didn't really care about humans and their strange little quirks, and that seemed to apply to gender. Leonard didn't mind, either way, but coming from a previously bigoted place like Georgia, he was used to gender playing an important role in society. With his knowledge of psychology from his medical background, he was able to pick things up in Jim’s behaviour. If Spock had been the one to notice, he would have sold Jim out before you could even say "logical". 

Leonard had no plans of selling Jim out, or even talking to her about it. He could see how difficult it was for her to be here, even after two days; it was obvious that whatever reason she had for lying about her gender, or maybe even providing StarKid with a false identity, it was a good one. 

He did know that Jim Kirk was supposed to have a twin sister who attended the Starfleet Academy. He wondered whether this was her. And if so, what her own name was. 

But it wasn't any of his goddamn business, so he didn't want to speculate about anything for now, unless things got too bad. 

It wasn't like Leonard could tell simply from looking at her that Jim was a girl. She looked exactly like the man in the music videos and the photos that Sulu showed them, whose voice was just as delicate. Only after re-watching some of them that morning did Leonard notice a difference in stature and build. The man looked older, too, while Jim looked like a younger version of him, more like a teenager than a young man. 

Jim didn't have any visible curves, and she was obviously of a more muscular build for a female. By male standards, though, she leaned to the thinner side. Her short hair, probably fake sideburns, and naturally square-shaped jaw drew immediate attention to her masculinity, however, and they made up for her body type. In general, she looked like a stereotypical high school boy and could probably pull off the excuse that her puberty had kicked in later than usual. 

Leonard would have been inclined to believe it, but that was before he noticed the way she refused to be touched in the car. She had batted his hands away instinctively then and flinched away from him this morning. He had tried to warn her without implying that he knew anything that doing that could make people talk, but he didn’t know if she caught on at all. 

While those feminine traits could exist in a man, the bound chest that Leonard accidentally felt through her dress shirt while carrying Jim home was something else entirely. 

He was a doctor of medicine, dammit, not a licensed psychologist specialising in cases of gender dysphoria, but he had taken the time last night to look up certain characteristic that transgender people exhibited. He had been flying blind, so he wasn’t surprised when the search didn’t make anything clearer than before. He came across either heteronormative answers or blog posts explaining why it honestly didn't matter if someone were transgender. But he wasn't in the situation where he was freaking out about the body parts of someone he had slept with. Leonard just wanted to make sure that he wasn't making a terrible mistake by assuming she was a man, when she was actually a woman, or a woman, when she was actually a man. In the end, after panicking for awhile over whether or not he was being insensitive or ignorant, or if he was assuming that he knew better than Jim did about her gender identity, he decided to think it through himself. 

It didn't matter what kind of a body, what kind of hormones, what kind of anything a man had, but he was still a man. It was society that misunderstood the meaning of individual's bodies, causing them to perform operations to conform to the norm. It was Jim _herself_ , deep inside, and even right below the surface, that wasn't a man. 

She wasn't a man in the same way a trans woman wasn't a man: she just wasn't. In one of the more helpful sources Leonard had come across, a transgender teenage boy assured his audience that ‘passing’ was for crossdressers, while _being_ was for people actually of that gender. He couldn’t put his finger on one individual thing, but to Leonard, it seemed as if Jim was focused more on passing than on being. If he hadn’t noticed the way she visibly held back from actions, movement, or even certain conversations, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice after feeling her binder. He wouldn't have even noticed it. But after observing her behaviour, however briefly, the binding felt like a missing puzzle piece, and here he was, still pondering over it. 

And besides, sex changing operations had advanced in the last century. They were safe and free and left no visible scars. No matter her financial background, the government would have completely covered any sex change operation of her choice after her coming of age. 

So now here he was, trying to figure out whether he should talk about it to someone, or whether he was in a position to do this at all. He didn't want Jim to think that he had turned his back on her. Spock would tell Sulu immediately. Scotty almost definitely knew, since Jim wouldn't have gone into this willingly, and he was technically "Jim Kirk’"s manager. Sulu would have a heart attack and order Scotty killed in his sleep. And Chekov was still adorably oblivious. He'd have a heart attack, too. 

"Jim is strangely sensitive," Chekov mused, as if on queue, on the sofa next to Leonard, pulling him out of his own worries. "And just slightly feminine, in an unusual way. I do not have a problem with it, of course not, but I have just never met anyone quite like him. Even though Russia eventually grew to be more tolerant and democratic, it used to be a very conservative place. Even today, not many members of the LGBT+ community stay there in fear of strains of intolerance resurfacing." 

Leonard said nothing, not wanting to give any of his own thought on Jim away. 

"Do you think that maybe Jim is... gay?" Chekov's voice was small and strangely hopeful. 

"You can never really tell with a person, Pavel," he answered. "Maybe you'll figure it out yourself, but I suggest that you don't ask Jim for now. He probably hasn't said anything for a reason. And it's none of our businesses, anyways." 

~ 

Jen woke up in the morning to the front door banging open loudly and to jabbering voices. It was a shame. She really wanted to sulk in her bed some more. 

"Rise and shine, boys," came Sulu's voice. "I have some interesting news, especially for Jim." 

Oh, but she was really fucking tired of interesting news. 

"You know, I don't really think that it's a good idea-" sounded Uhura's worried voice. 

"Why are you two always trying to stop me from trying to make StarKid become even more successful?" Sulu asked in both amusement and pinched exasperation. "If you're not careful, I'll really have to fire you." 

"Sir, you make that threat too much," Jen said, wandering into the living room after securing her binder and pulling a black t-shirt over her head. "What do you need to tell me?" 

"You're going to be making your debut at the Terran Music Festival!" Sulu exclaimed excitedly, grasping Jim's forearms tightly. 

"Isn't that in two weeks?" Jen asked nervously. "I read about it online a few days ago. I don't think I'm ready enough for that." 

"I told the man, I told 'im-" 

"Sure you are," Sulu said to Jen, interrupting Scotty. “We're having dance rehearsal everyday, starting this afternoon, to prepare you. I know you can sing, but you don't have much of dancing background, do you?" 

Jen shook her head, dread flooding her stomach. 

"Then these two weeks will be more than enough to prepare you," Sulu told her. "There'll also be some photo shoots, too, but you should get used to having to model. It's really vital in the industry, as I’m sure you’re aware." 

For the first time, Jen wondered whether or not her brother would enjoy being in her place right now. She was sure that even he wouldn't be. 

~ 

Spock received a transmission from Sulu on his PADD at around twelve hundred thirty, which he answered without complaint. He was not unavailable at the moment. In fact, it had been blissfully peaceful throughout the whole day. The silence around him had allowed him to seek musical inspiration. Because composing always had the same soothing effect as meditation on Spock, he was currently feeling more in control of his emotions the previous day. 

"Peace and long life, Manager Sulu," Spock greeted him, raising a _ta'al_. 

"Good morning, Spock," he urgently. "Or good afternoon, whatever. Listen, man, I'm at the suite right now, and I just told Jim my plan at having him debut at the Terran Music Festival. He looked really scared, but he agreed. You'll do it, right? Tell me you'll do it?" 

"The Terran Music Festival is not an unpopular convention," Spock commented, side-stepping his agreement, yet still implying it. "It will improve his ratings by centring the attention around his performance." 

"Thank you, Spock," Sulu sighed with relief. "And I hope that you two patch things up. And by hope, I mean that I want to see you hugging like bros by tomorrow, or else I'm going to be really angry. Do you hear me?" 

"I understand you with perfect clarity," Spock replied. 

"Great. There's a StarKid dance rehearsal at thirteen hundred hours. Be there." 

"Very well," Spock responded. 

"I was going to send you some details on the festival, actually, but I accidentally downloaded some crap onto my PADD instead of the information," Sulu told him. "I'm going to grab Scotty's to read you some important times for the next few days, okay? Don't cut the transmission, Spock, please?" 

"I will not," Spock agreed. 

"Great, I'll be right back," Sulu said, laying his PADD onto the coffee table in front of the sofa, directing the camera device of the PADD towards the ceiling. 

On any other occasion, Spock would have lowered the volume on his PADD after hearing the sound of approaching footsteps and two familiar voices. They belonged to Nyota and Kirk, who spoke between themselves in the vicinity of the kitchen. Since there was an eighty five point eight three percent chance that they were unaware of the transmission occurring on Sulu's PADD, Spock should have given them their privacy. 

He did not have a chance to lower the volume, however, because of their particularly enticing topic of conversation. 

"I just wish for this nightmare to be over," Kirk said, slamming a cup onto the kitchen counter. Was Kirk planning to sign out of StarKid? 

"Seriously, you're doing really well," Nyota replied. "If you suck today, don't be hung up over it. If you suck at the Terran Music Festival, don't be hung up over it. Well, actually, that's a pretty big deal, and I'm sorry that Scotty and I couldn't stop it. _I_ think you're doing really well. But I do know one thing that'll help." 

"What?" asked Kirk unenthusiastically. 

There was a brief silence, followed by noises that resembled gagging and choking. 

"I'm not going to fucking stuff fake balls in my pants, Uhura!" came Kirk's indignant shout. Spock narrow his eyes. Balls? Fake balls? Balls, as in... testi- 

"But what about the walking?" 

"My look-at-how-uncomfortable-my-big-dick-is strutting around is actually quite good, thanks." 

"But what if someone notices you're pretending?" Nyota shouted, sounding extremely concerned. "Even though you pass as a man, you still aren’t one. You can’t be completely sure that what you’re doing works." 

Spock cut the transmission, saving a recording of it before beginning to process the new information. 

Several facts attempted to a find a home in the expanses of Spock's vast, usually comprehending mind: 

Nyota assumed that Kirk required fake testicles, because Kirk did not posses the genitalia of a biologically human male. 

Nyota assumed that said testicles would assist in Kirk in appearing more biologically male. 

Kirk needed to appear biologically male, because he was not male in any sense of the word. 

Kirk was a woman. 

James T. Kirk was indeed a woman, who was deceiving everyone with the exception of Nyota and other possible conspirators, most like Montgomery. If her intentions were not clouded with malice, she would have been able to apply to the band as a female, despite it being a fully male band before her arrival (and still fully male in legal matterns and to the public). She would have been accepted. 

Manager Sulu had a right to be warned against Kirk's false identity and dishonestly, but only after Spock was certain of the fact that what he now believed to be the truth was indeed that: the full truth. 

He had never let his mind touch hers in any manner, even in a way that would only sense her emotions. Now, however, he needed direct thoughts. 

As it was five till thirteen hundred, Spock drove to the studio, which was located in the same building as the agency, as fast as possible. Nyota would ensure that Kirk were punctual. 

Spock navigated through the familiar hallways and floors on his way to the dance studio. When he reached it, he opened the doors urgently, not having the semblance of a plan. 

A multitude of stage dancers were practising inside, including McCoy, Chekov, and Kirk. Kirk was staring at the instructor blankly more often than not, looking completely "out of her element". 

Kirk had been reluctant to sing. She had not sung a personal work; instead, she had chosen an opera piece to sing it half an octave higher than intended. 

Kirk had an extremely low alcohol tolerance. 

Now, looking at her moving to the music, Spock could see the delicacy of her thin fingers, the thin bone that traveled upwards through the muscles of her forearm. 

_Only direct thoughts._

Without consciously making the decision to do so, Spock walked towards her. Several heads turned, including hers. Her expression transformed from being confused, to guilty, to angry, to hopeful. 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, allowing only a sliver of their skin to make contact to prevent anyone from deducing his intentions. 

_Oh god,_ she thought, _what did I do now?_

The thought was enough for Spock to recognise the wavelengths of a female mind. 

Sulu needed to be warned. 

Spock pulled Kirk into a hug slightly, wrapping his left arm around her shoulder blades, attempting to make it seem like that had been his intent from the start. He could feel more shock and confusion radiating from her skin. 

At that very moment, the studio door opened to the familiar snap of photos. Spock turned around, seeing a pleased Sulu with a reporter by his side. 

"I'm pleased to see the two of you making up," Sulu told Kirk and Spock. "Now, as for the rest of you, we're going to be having a photo op in a couple of minutes here. He's just going to snap some photos of you practising, so carry on." 

As the dancers focused their attention back on the instructor, Spock approached Sulu immediately. 

"Manager Sulu, I must speak with you privately, preferably immediately," he said, lowering his voice for only the manager to hear. 

"Not now Spock," Sulu hissed back. "Wow, and here I was, thinking you had been making progress." 

"It is a matter of utmost importance and urgency," Spock tried to explain. "It concerns Kirk. I think that it is in your best interest to remove him from his place in StarKid, because he is a-" 

"Do you even know what you sound like right now?" Sulu asked incredulously. "He's here, training to prepare for his debut, and you're just standing around bashing on him. I don't have time to listen to it. If it's actually all that important, come to my office at the end of the day, and we'll talk then." 

"Very well," Spock agreed, turning on his heel and exiting the room. He could feel blood rushing to his cheekbones and the tips of his ears: it was shameful to be reprimanded in such a way, especially when had realistic concerns. 

Spock decided to approach Kirk herself. 

~ 

Okay, that hug with Spock had been really weird. It was like he was trying to stare into the depths of Jen's soul and see whether or not she shared his bromantic affections? She was just thankful that he hadn't started a conversation, because it definitely wouldn't have been appropriate to discuss in front of other people. And since it was private, it made her feel uncomfortable. She wanted to completely push it from her mind. 

As she emerged from the studio with the rest of the guys to go take a shower, Scotty dragged her aside. 

"There's a locker room one floor higher," he told her. "Let's go; I'll guard it." 

"I can handle a bunch of naked guys," Jen protested. 

"But you can't do the washing part without the revealing your bits part," Scotty replied, already leading the way. 

"Oh yeah, that part," Jen muttered. 

Her locker room was blissfully empty, and she had the chance to wash the sweat off of her body as quickly as possible, in case someone did decide to come in. 

Scotty must have wandered off or something, or maybe simply failed at effectively guarding the door, because after about five to ten minutes, the dance crew entered the locker room. She was already completely dressed. The problem, though, was that they were not. 

They were all stark naked, with the small towels wrapped around their waists doing nothing to hide _anything_. 

Jen wasn't a virgin to either men or women, and abstinence was definitely not her thing, but seeing several dozens of dicks wasn’t, either. And locker rooms _were_ separated both at the Academy and on all Federation starships, so she was neither used to nor prepared to see tons so much male genetalia thrusted practically in her face. 

She was still standing by her shower a few moments later, trying to breathe calmly through her nose and stop her shifting eyes from looking too nonchalant. Whenever she averted her eyes, she was struck with a new naked body to stare at, and this continued on for a while. Her feet seemed to be rooted into the ground, because she couldn’t bring herself to step forward, and walk through the locker room and out of it. 

"The showers on the first floor broke down," came Bones' voice to her left. He threw a towel at her head, which flopped with a soft thud on her head and immediately covered her face from what was going on around her. 

"Your hair's wet," he grumbled by way of explanation. Jen grinned, grateful for his perfect timing, and began to scrub the towel through her hair to pretend that nothing was amiss. 

"Thanks, Bones." 

"Now, are you going to get out of here or not?" Bones asked warily, as Jen continued to stand there. "I need to shower myself, you know." 

"Yup, I’m going,” she said, quickly rushing away from the sea of naked, sweaty, distinctly male bodies. 

Once she was outside the locker room and in the quiet hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

"That was an ordeal," she mumbled to herself. 

"Is that so?" suddenly came Spock's voice to her left. He was too far away for her to notice him, but since he was Vulcan, he was close enough to catch what she had said. He was walking towards her at a leisurely pace, observing her. "And why is that, _Miss_ Kirk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Боже мой_ means "Oh my god" in Russian.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm trans," Jen blurted, trying to explain herself to Spock, before he got any ideas that came closer to the actual truth. "Um, yeah, it's really private, which is why it’s a secret. But it's who I am, which is personal, so please don't tell any-" 

"I assure you, using transgender individuals’ identities to further your lies will get you nowhere, Miss Kirk," Spock said patronisingly, cutting off her stream of probably offensive bullshit. He retrieved his PADD from the inside of his robes, scrolled through it for a few moments, and handed it to her. 

Jen gaped in horror as her and Uhura's conversation played back to her. So she had managed to sell out herself. Great. 

"I'm actually non-binary, but that raises too many questions, so-" 

"When I placed a hand in your shoulder before embracing you, I purposefully sought out your skin to skim only the outskirts if your mind for proof of your gender," Spock explained. "I apologise for the violation of your privacy, but I had no other method of learning the truth. The wavelengths emitted by your mind are distinctly female." 

"Why does it matter?" Jen protested, not knowing which plan to revert to now. "This isn't technically a boy band! I have the right to be here!" 

"That is precisely the cause for my concern," Spock explained. "You would have been accepted into StarKid, had you applied as a female. We do not discriminate against gender. You chose not to, however, for reasons beyond my knowledge, choosing dishonesty instead, implying malicious motivations." 

He plucked the PADD out of Jen's hands and began walking in the direction of the turbolift. She knew she had to tell him the whole truth for him to understand why all of the pretending was going on. 

"Let me explain, Spock," she said, rushing after him. "You have to know the whole story to know why I'm here as a guy." 

"You will have the opportunity to explain yourself to Sulu, who will make the decision of whether or not you remain in StarKid," Spock told her, while he waited for the elevator. 

"What? Sulu? _No_. Don't be a dick, Spock! Listen to me: I have to stay in StarKid!" 

Spock did not reply, stepping into the turbolift. She stood at its entrance, preventing the automatic door from swishing closed. 

"I can't let you do this," she told him. 

"I am not sorry to inform you that you have no way of stopping me from informing Manager Sulu," Spock said pedantically. 

But there must be something... Her eyes landed on his PADD. It held the recording; Spock's sole word wasn't good enough. 

She grabbed the PADD out of his hands, catching him by surprise, and jumped back. The doors closed before Spock could follow, but she knew he would open them in about two seconds, so she needed to gain distance. 

Male Vulcans were a helluva lot faster than female humans, but Jen didn't have time to think about that. She was running; there were footsteps at the bottom of the staircase; she was running; she was on the balcony of the third floor; she was- 

Spock gripped her arms tightly from behind, not letting her go any farther. She was at a dead end anyways, as she has taken an exit to the balcony after running one flight of stairs. They were sidled up against the railing, and she tried to twist out of his grip. Even though she couldn't escape him, she held the PADD out over the railing threateningly, which did the trick. Spock let go of her and stepped back. 

"Even if you do not relinquish hold of the device, your secret will be revealed eventually," Spock informed her seriously. "You will reveal it in a similar manner to today, but it instead might be heard by a swarm of reporters, who will not wait for your explanations." 

Jen's chest flared with hope: Spock's goal was not to screw her life over. Well, not only, at least. He had basically just implied that he was a better person than someone who would rat her out simply for attention. But she was distraught to realise that he was right, too. Stealing Spock's PADD - _again_ \- wouldn't solve anything. 

She loosened her hold on the PADD as she brought it away from the railing, but Spock had not been prepared for her sudden surrender. His fingers were not quick enough to catch the PADD. It tipped over the railing, and its seemingly endless descent into the abyss was followed by a _clank_ , as it landed onto the roof of a truck parked below. 

"Shit," Jen groaned. "Shit shit shit shit fuck-" 

"I suggest you stop expressing yourself in expletives and thank me for protecting the device with a case," Spock said, grabbing her by the scruff and pulling her along. "If it were to break from an accidental fall, you would face the same consequences." 

"Is a PADD seriously more worth to you than a human life, Spock?" Jen asked, jogging to keep up with him, so that his tight grip in her shirt wouldn’t cause her to choke. "I know I'm not worth much to you, but you were the one who didn't grab the PADD." 

"You were perfectly capable of simply handing it to me," Spock pointed out, positively fuming. "You will be the one to retrieve it from the roof of the vehicle, as it is your fault that it is there, or I will retrieve it and report it to Sulu without a second thought." 

"Blackmail?" Jen sneered. "I didn't know you were the type to play dirty, Spock!" 

When they got to the bottom of the staircase, an exit outside led directly to the truck, which still stood by the curb. Spock pulled her towards it a little too harshly as they approached, almost making her crash into its metal walls. 

"Retrieve my device," Spock ordered. 

"Say please," Jen retorted, crossing her arms. 

"Do it, Kirk," Spock responded menacingly, taking a step towards her. 

"All right, all right," she glowered, beginning to pull herself up onto the roof of the truck. It was difficult, but there was no other way: there was no ladder attached. "I'll get the stupid PADD that's so obviously worth more than my life." 

She had to haul herself completely onto the roof to reach the PADD, which sat a little distance away. She tossed it in Spock's direction, who caught it without any difficulty, immediately inspecting it for damages. 

At the exact moment that she was about to throw a leg over the side to jump down, the truck began to move. She should have noticed the No Parking zone: the driver was still inside, apparently oblivious to the fact that someone was dangling off of its side. 

As a potential Starfleet officer, Jen should have been prepared to jump from high altitudes at high speeds. However, the fact that the truck was now moving sent her into panic mode, where she couldn't move a single muscle. If she jumped now, it would probably be more painful than jumping off of a building and out of a moving car combined. 

"Spock!" she called nervously, as the truck began to gain speed. She crouched down, grasping the handrails on the side of the roof as tightly as possible, her knuckles turning white. "Do you think you can break my fall?" 

Spock looked up, apparently just realising that Jen was stupid enough not to get off of the truck as soon as possible. He began to run at an inhuman speed, his limbs becoming a blur of movement that fascinated Jen, even when she was holding on for dear life. 

"Jump now!" Spock yelled after catching up to the truck, using all of his power to continue running alongside it. 

Jen knew that she had to face her fears. She was almost a Starfleet officer, and it was already shameful that she had been too petrified to jump at first: it wasn't her place to wallow and waiting for rescue, and it never was. Spock already _was_ rescue: she could do this. 

With a running start, she jumped off of the side of the railing, concentrating on letting the momentum carry her into a cat-like crouch instead of ramming her legs straight into the asphalt. She didn't get that far, though, because she barely touched the ground, before Spock's arms came around her with an impact that pushed all air out of her lungs. He fell backwards, cushioning her fall despite looking like nothing but bones and lean muscle. The momentum sent them into a tumbling whirlwind, causing them to roll onto the ground several times before coming to a stop, with Spock on top of her, his arms bracketing her head from both sides and his palms cupping the back of her head, protecting it from hitting the ground. 

She couldn't breathe, and not just from the force of the impact. 

Spock stood up immediately, looking only slightly ruffled. He didn't even look at her, much less offer a hand. Jen sat up, her breath immediately exploding into a hacking cough. 

When she finally had the energy to stand on two feet, Spock was already walking back in the direction they had come from. Jen followed at a limp, trying desperately to keep up without placing too much pressure on her leg. Before she collided with Spock, she had landed on the ground at a run, probably twisting the ankle of the leg that broke her fall. 

"You are a dangerous human being," Spock said some time later. "Even though you do not take up much physical space, you leave destruction in your wake the size of a hurricane." 

"I'm sorry," Jen said, her voice small. "I keep fucking up." 

"I am sorry, as well," Spock commented, turning to face her as they approached the agency building. "I do not wish for you or anyone else to suffer because of your presence here. You are a talented singer, Miss Kirk, but it is apparent to me that you have not trained in or lived alongside any other members of the performance industry. Am I correct?" 

"Yes," Jen began, wanting to tell him everything. "I-" 

"I do not wish to become involved in your ploy to be a member of StarKid, so I ask that you do not share your story with me," Spock told her. "I will not report you to Manger Sulu, nor will I speak of this to anyone else. I only ask that you leave StarKid before you completely damage its reputation and destroy its success through the messes you cause." 

"Fine!" Jen shouted, unable to handle anymore logical reprimanding from Spock. "I'm gonna quit. I was bound to sooner or later. If you don't even want to hear why I'm complying to this retarded shit in the first place, fine! You're right: I'm completely out of my element! This isn't what I call having a good time. I don't even like singing!" 

With that she stalked off as quickly as her limp allowed, not wanting to see Spock's satisfied Vulcan eyebrow smirk, and not wanting Spock to see her own turmoil. 

She found Scotty and Uhura in the latter's office. 

"Spock found out, and I can't do this anymore, so I'm quitting," she blurted out. She was about to back out, but Uhura caught her arm, whirling her back around towards them. 

"Woah woah woah, Jen," she said. "Start from the beginning. What happened? How did Spock find out?" 

Jen told the two of them about how he had overheard their conversation, how he checked by lifting his shields while touching her; about the PADD and truck incident; and about how he had promised to not report her as long as she left the group for good. 

"He's still blackmailing you," Uhura pointed out. "Even if he's not telling, he's using his knowledge to make you quit." 

"I won’t blame him, if that’s the case," Jen said, "but I don't think he means it that way. He genuinely doesn't want to be involved in this, and he's actually worried for StarKid. And he's right to worry! I'm fucking up big time. What happened with the truck was the last straw. Sooner or later, I'm going to get my pants stuck on a branch, and they'll be pulled, and then everyone will see what I have _in_ my pants, and then you'll all be at the centre of negative attention because of me." 

"What about your brother, Jen?" Scotty asked sadly. "You're still acclimating. It can get better." 

"Like I told you before, I can't live his life," she told him. "I'll think about it overnight, but I'm probably going to Sulu tomorrow. Maybe he'll understand the situation and pardon my brother and I, and give him a month for recuperation from his surgery. And if not, then you and Jim deserve to work for a better agency than this." 

No matter how good at deceiving Jen was, she didn't want to fall into a constructed reality of her own lies. She needed to leave it before she made anymore damage. 

~ 

After returning to his hotel, Spock immediately lit his incense candle and knelt on the mat for meditation. His tumultuous emotions, caused by his biologically human half, were unacceptable. A proper Vulcan would not face the difficulty of having to discern a mix of emotions. A proper Vulcan would not be affected by a human such as James T. Kirk. 

Spock attempted to categorise the emotions in his mind. He felt frustration at being constantly involved in the messes she caused. With a deep breath, he let it go. The illogic in humans' actions would continue to lead to unfortunate consequences. Neither a whole race nor a single individual could be changed. 

Spock felt guilt at having been the cause of Kirk’s physical and emotional pain, demonstrated by her tears and the limp in her leg, and for shamefully entreating upon her thoughts. It was difficult to remove himself from the emotion, as he was partially at fault for her reactions. However, it had been Kirk who had acted illogically on multiple occasions. And it was logical to gather direct evidence about her statement over the transmission, as her deceit was a matter that would be able to drastically affect not just herself, but all of the members of StarKid and of the Star Agency. 

He felt anger at being denied the truth for a selfish purpose. With a reprimand and a breath, he let it go. It was his choice to refuse to accept her explanation for the sake of not becoming involved. It was illogical both to assume that her intentions were selfish and to speculate about what they were. 

Spock felt empathy for Kirk, who expressed feeling out of her element in StarKid. He experienced similar feelings of being inadequate and out of place throughout both his childhood and his adult life. Even after letting the emotion go from his conscious mind, it lingered in his _katra_ , unwilling to be stirred. 

~ 

Pavel was curious about Jim, but he didn't mean to intrude on his privacy or spy on him. When he had existed the studio before Leonard or the rest of the dancers, he had not intended to overhear his conversation with Spock at the turbolift. They seemed to be continuously fighting. Pavel wondered whether Jim had done anything to upset the Vulcan again. Pavel really respected Spock, and he was discomforted to see him belittled or made uncomfortable in any way. 

Pavel was surprised to see Jim approach him with a slight limp and dirt on his workout clothes. His eyes were slightly red, as if he had been crying once again. 

"Hi, Pasha," Jim said. "Do you wanna walk back to our building instead of taking the limo? We can take the long way around. I need to cool off, maybe walk off what seems to be a foot sprain. I don't actually think it's anything serious." 

"Did anything happen between you and Spock?" Pavel asked, following Jim outside of the building, taking the way through the garage to avoid the paparazzi. 

"I really hurt him, I think," Jim said quietly. 

Pavel was relatively sure that Jim liked guys: his subconscious body language while being around other men made it obvious. It was different from the natural indifference he had while being around Nyota. Even though Pavel was relatively sure that even a gay man wouldn't be able to turn the beautiful stylist down, if she offered. Pavel also took into account that Jim might be attracted to women, as well, who simply were not Uhura, and did not give him as much crap for trying to find a partner. 

But Spock? Spock enjoyed the company of women exclusively. He had even dated Nyota for two weeks out of the public eye when StarKid first got together, but Pavel had heard that they broke up because there was no spark. They were both so intelligent and sophisticated, but they did not need each other's company for sexual or romantic purposes. 

Could Spock and Jim really be having a lover's spat? Jealousy flared in Pavel's chest, which surprised him. Why would he be jealous of either of them? He was straight, too. He had dated some girls while in college. 

"I'm an obnoxious, clumsy nuisance, aren't I?" Jim asked morosely, mostly to himself. "I'm just getting in everyone's way here. I wish I didn't have this sudden stroke of fucked up luck." 

Pavel realised that Jim could simply be sad at causing a wreck in Spock's personal life. There weren't necessarily romantic undertones in their conversation. It made Pavel feel less bothered and confused. 

When they reached their suite, Leonard greeted them at the door, immediately looking concerned at seeing Jim's condition. 

"Christ, Jim, what happened?" he asked, helping the blonde man to the sofa. 

"I accidentally dropped Spock's PADD over the railing of a balcony onto the roof of a truck. He made me get it, and while I was on top of it, it started moving. I had to jump off while it was in motion." 

Pavel immediately understood why Jim looked so battered. It made sense why the problems between Spock and Jim continued, and it was hard to blame Jim after he had endured something like that. Pavel felt a twinge of disappointment that Jim hadn't shared this information with him, too, but he understood that Jim probably didn't want to hang out with someone four years younger than him. Even now, they didn't notice him lingering in the kitchen, watching their interaction. 

"I'm gonna kill him," Leonard said, completely seriously, while continuing to inspect Jim's ankle. 

"Don't, Bones," Jim protested. "He broke my fall. He ran behind the truck at the speed of a superhuman, and then he even made sure that he would be the one to land on his back. He even cradled my head. He's actually kind when he's not trying to be especially cruel, you know?" 

"He's a heartless, emotionally stunted hobgoblin who almost got you killed!" Leonard exclaimed. "And you went along with it! I'm really disappointed disappointed to learn that my new pal has a suicidal streak." 

"Oh, stop whining, Bones," Jim said, waving it off. "I’ll stay in the land of the living one way or another." 

"We'll see about that," Leonard responded, bandaging Jim's ankle with the material from the first aid kit that they kept in their suite. "This is probably what caring for a pet feels like." 

"Hey!" Jim protested. "Am I some kind of wounded dog to you?" 

"Oh yes you are," Leonard answered through chuckles. "You’re like a dog who has lost its way. I feel like I have to take care of you. I haven't had that many people to take care of in a while." 

Pavel could tell that the silence between them transitioned into something more meaningful. 

"You must really miss your family in Georgia, huh?" Jim asked the ex-doctor. 

"Scotty told you about my past, then," Bones commented. "I just miss my daughter, Joanna. Her mother is a cow and the reason I can't see her. I can't even _talk_ to Jo that often, because her mother doesn't let her use the communicator often. I just hope that Jocelyn isn't feeding her lies about how her father abandoned her to run away with a rock group. I wouldn't have left if I still had something to live for there." 

"Joanna wouldn't fall for that," Jim assured him. "She’s probably really happy to see her daddy up there on the big stage, making people smile with his music and talent. She probably tells all of her friends about you and beats them up if they give her any shit." 

Leonard offered Jim a tentative smile, and Pavel felt something sharp and painful near his heart. He slipped out of the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid being noticed. It was obvious that the two of them were having a personal moment. If something more should happen between them, he didn't want to stay for the show. 

~ 

Before falling asleep that night, Jen lied in bed, curled into herself, clutching her right hand with her mother's ring to her heart. She knew that she would turn herself to Sulu the next morning. She didn't have a choice: it was that or being found out some other way by a reporter or someone equally evil, which would be unimaginably worse. Still, she had failed her brother's dream, even though she shared it, too. She simply had never been as determined as him. 

Jim's number was in her new communicator, under her own name in the contacts, but she did not have the nerves to call him and explain Scotty's whole plan, only to tell him that she was giving up. She would write a note for Scotty to pass on to him. Undoubtedly, Jim already knew of Scotty’s stunts and was only kept at bay by the fact that he had no way to show himself in public or reach her without any subterfuge. In the case that he was up to speed with the recent events, he would find out what kind of person Jen really was after seeing news of her leave StarKid. 

_I'm sorry for failing you, Jim,_ she thought, before falling into a restless sleep. 

As soon as she looked presentable the next morning, she sent a transmission through to Sulu. She was prepared to tell him everything right then and there, to get the whole thing over with, and then to leave without having to make a public speech in front of the public. And especially not Bones or Chekov. She didn't want to see anger or disappointment in their eyes. Or, even worse, a hurt look of betrayal. 

When Sulu didn't respond, she had to curse through her anger in a few different languages. He was probably busy signing StarKid up for the Terran Music Festival, and here she'd be, quitting. But she had to do it. 

StarKid was heading to Star Agency offices that morning, anyways, so she could just tell Sulu in person. And he wouldn't even be able to threaten to cut her balls off after her revelation. 

She almost burst into tears from that thought right there and then. 

On the way to the offices, Chekov got a call on his comm, which he answered cheerfully. 

"Spock!" he exclaimed. Jen couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but it made her nervous immediately. 

"Yeah, he's here," Chekov said in confusion. After a few moments, he bid goodbye. 

"He asked if you were with us," Chekov explained, even though he looked confused. "Where else would you be?" 

"Spock thinks that I'm too scared about the Terran Music Festival to go make plans for photo ops and conferences," Jen lied without second thought. Chekov seemed to buy it, nodding contemplatively. In reality, Spock was just checking to see if she had left yet. 

The lie did hold a partial truth: she was too scared. 

When Jen, Bones, and Chekov arrived at the agency, she hurried out of the car, running into the building ahead of the rest of the crew. She wanted to talk to Sulu alone as soon as possible. 

She waited in his personal office patiently, seeing Bones and Chekov eye her curiously from where they lingered in the corridor. After a few minutes of sitting uselessly, she was going to get up and look for Sulu herself, but a bodyguard unexpectedly entered the office. He extended an envelope, which she accepted quizzically. 

It didn't have any inscriptions on the back, and it wasn't sealed. Tentatively, she opened it, pulling out a photograph. 

It was a picture of her and Jim at about five years old, standing on either side of their father, the late George Kirk. Their identical grins were perfect replicas of his smile. Her father's hair was cut short, like hers now, but they both had ridiculous bowl cuts, like Spock’s in the present. Jen looked just like both of them, and so, so happy. 

Jen raced after the guard, stopping him on his way out of the building. 

"Who gave this to you?" she asked urgently. 

"A middle-aged man with short brown hair and a reddish face, dressed in dirty blue jeans and a brown turtleneck jacket," the guard replied. "He claimed to be your uncle, Frank Kirk, and asked to be admitted to see you. When I declined, he asked to give you the envelope. He left in the direction of the subway station across the street." 

Frank was a drunk asshole; Jen distinctly remembered how unhappy he had been when the two orphans were dropped off at his house after George's death. The orphanage probably took better care of them than he ever could. But he was her father's brother, and he had a photo of part of Jen's family, which was more than she ever had. She hadn't thought about it when he showed up at their suite, but he might remember something about his mother. As for Jen, she only had the name - Winona Kirk - and a ring. Her mother was just a vague memory from her childhood. She could take any clue she could get. 

She was about to dash out of the building to find him, when Sulu finally arrived, approaching her as soon as he saw her. 

"I saw your missed call and your messages," he said. "You wanted to talk to me?" 

Jen thought over her options. Just two minutes ago, she thought that she thought that standing in Jim's place would be pointless, since she would do more harm than good. But now that the possibility of learning about her mother was real and right under her fingers, she couldn't give up, no matter how much she pitied herself for being an embarrassment here. She was have to put of the quitting for later. 

"Listen, sir, I have to take care of something important," she said quickly. "Can I come back later on? But I might not, in case I get pretty busy." 

Sulu nodded slowly, starting to agree, but Jen just thanked him and dashed off in search for Frank. 

~ 

Spock, as per Sulu's instructions, drove to the agency offices, wondering if Kirk had her wits about her and had confessed her identity to the manager. She had been in the vehicle on her way there with McCoy and Chekov. Spock would confront her in the office about whether or not she would go through with her word. 

While he was parking at his personal parking space in front of the offices, he suddenly saw Kirk sprint out of the building and across the street, passing by directly in front of Spock's hover car. 

The expression on her face showed significant distress, and her eyes were searching for something on the other side of the road. When she found it, the lit up in the same manner of a sky clearing. She had stopped in the middle of a lane to do so, and something twistted near Spock's heart, when a car skidded to a stop in front of her. She waved a hand in apology, running in the direction of the subway on the other side. 

Spock exited his vehicle and followed, trying to keep her in his sight. It seemed like James T. Kirk was in the habit of putting herself in danger out of distraction and dumb headedness. 

When he entered the subway station, he immediately noticed her, standing in the middle of a flow of people and looking around desperately. He also noticed a crowd of adolescent girls pointing at her in awe and laughing, drawing attention to Kirk. 

Spock approached her, throwing the hood of her jacket over her head to conceal partially from view. She looked at him thankfully. When she continued to move through the subway station, however, he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her alongside him, out of the subway and away from prying eyes. 

"Let me go, Spock!" she begged desperately, uselessly trying to pry his fingers off while stumbling behind him. "After you decided to go leave us all, my Uncle Frank, my dead father's brother, came to visit. I ordered him kicked out, but I didn't even think about the fact that he could know about my mom. And he just stopped by, dropping off a picture of my brother, my dad, and I. If he has that, maybe he has some information about her. If he came so far to give me that photo, maybe he wants to help, and will come back again to talk to me. But I don't know how to find him myself! Spock, the reason I'm in StarKid right now is because I'm trying to find my mom, for god's sake!" 

Spock understood the fervour in her voice, the desperation hope that her mother somewhere in the universe, waiting for her daughter to did her. His own sorrows swept over him momentarily, reminding him of the times that he, too, abandoned all reason and plead to a higher power. He closed his eyes for what was longer than a blink before being able to speak. 

"And if your uncle returns, will he find you here?" Spock asked coldly. "You are already planning on taking back your word on signing out of StarKid?" 

"Just let me stay until I can find him," she begged. "Maybe he'll tell me that she's... where she is, or what happened, or whatever, and then I won't need to be in StarKid anymore." 

They had stopped walking only after reaching the doors to the Star Agency offices. Spock released his grip on her and spoke at a low volume to prevent anyone else from overhearing. 

"No matter your reason for being here, it is unacceptable to me that you have joined under false pretences. Uphold your promise, James T. Kirk. And please request Manager Sulu to forward further details of the Terran Music Festival to my PADD." 

As he walked away, he could feel Kirk's angry eyes following him. Guilt at denying her wish flooded him, but abandonment was something Spock was familiar with. He would rather encourage her to return to her life before StarKid than help her learn an emotionally distressing truth. 

He met his own mother in the lobby of his hotel. She looked as immaculate as ever, the lines of age decorating her face in a way that made her appear wiser and more handsome. He had no wish to pause for conversation, especially after the events that transpired with Jim Kirk, but he stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. 

"Let's talk, Spock," she insisted. 

"I would not be adverse to speak with you, but I have nothing to say to you," he told her, not allowing their eyes to meet. "Our conversations would be composed mainly of small talk, and you know how I prefer to avoid useless human social practises. Or have you forgotten?" 

"Yet you decided to continue staying at the same hotel as me after our first meeting," she pointed out. "Wasn’t it because you were hoping you might run into me?" 

"It was not. It was because your presence here means nothing to me." 

It was not the truth, even though Spock wanted it to be. Even though Vulcans did not lie due to the singular logic of truth, it did not mean that they were incapable of doing so. And Spock was not simply Vulcan. Lying was a practice he had picked up from his human mother. 

When Spock sat down on his meditation mat, a memory from his childhood perturbed his thoughts. 

_At seven years old, Spock waits for his mother in their temporary suite. As he is Vulcan, he does not require supervision at this age. However, he requires company of peers and mentors for maintaining a healthy mind. He is studying independently on Earth, and his attempts to befriend human children has not been successful. His father, no longer in wedlock with Amanda Grayson, is performing as a solo violinist with orchestras from all over the galaxy when he is not rehearsing with the ShiKahr Philharmonic Orchestra on Vulcan. This makes Spock’s mother is his only companion._

_It is nineteen hundred ten hours, and Spock watches the television in their living room. A live transmission of an interview with hit singer Amanda Grayson is being played on the channel._

_Amanda Grayson promised to return home by nineteen hundred, but she stumbles in drunk at two hundred of the next day. Spock pretends to be asleep in his room. Even if his lights were on, his mother wouldn't check._

Meditation required two more hours than usual that afternoon. 

When he exited his meditation trance in the early evening, a message from an unknown number was left on Spock's PADD: 

**_> >I don't particularly want to go to your room right now, so could you please get your ass down here? I need to talk to you about something important. - James T. Kirk_**

The message had been sent only ten minutes ago, which signified that _Miss_ James T. Kirk was most likely still waiting for his appearance. Spock supposed that it would be easier to pretend to be mediating than face her at this moment. 

A new message appeared: 

**_> >Don't you dare blow me off, or I'm going to come to your hotel and demand a room number! - James T. Kirk_**

Spock stifled his impulse to sigh, instead transmitting a message to Kirk in response, asking to meet her by the fountain in front of the hotel lobby. 

When he approached said fountain, he could see Kirk pacing back and forth in front of it, running her hands through her short hair in a way that seemed to be bringing her physical pain. As he approached, she looked up at him abruptly and took a deep breath in preparation to speak. 

"I know you don't want to hear what I have to say, but you're going to have to listen anyways," she began angrily. 

"My brother and I were sent to an orphanage when we were eight after our father died, but our mother disappeared after we were born. All our lives, my brother Jim has been dreaming to become famous enough for the whole world to know his name, so that maybe our mother could see it someday. The reason I’m here instead of him is because of his screwed up cosmetic surgery, and something like that shouldn't stand in his way from reaching our mother. 

"Do you know what I do, Spock? I attend the Starfleet Academy. I gave up a guaranteed position as a first officer aboard the USS _Enterprise_ by coming here to fill in for my brother. I hated the idea, and I don't like it now, but I’m here instead of at the Academy, because finding my mom has always been my dream, too. I look up at the stars through the telescope we have on the Academy grounds, and I wonder whether she is seeing the same ones. Or maybe, if she is living happily on a planet that orbits one of them. But here I am, instead of on the _Enterprise_ , and I was here even before I believed that maybe I could truly find her. When I saw the photo, I felt that there was a chamce." 

Kirk paused to remove a thin silver band from the ring finger of her right hand. She held it out towards Spock in an open palm. 

"Do you see this ring? This, along with the identical one that my brother owns, is the only thing that I have left of my mother. Now, I've never been a believer in big romantic gestures, or in romance, or just in big gestures, or anything really. But you can see how dramatic my life has been for the past few days, so I'm just going to screw it and make the big gesture. If you don't think I can find my mom, take this as ring as a symbol of my commitment to searching for her. Just trust me." 

Spock accepted the ring slowly, closing his fingers around it and dropping his hand into the pocket of his robes. Kirk's conviction would be admirable, had Spock not known that it was pointless. She still harboured a child’s futile hopes. The pain of Spock's own memories flooded him, as if once again opening a raw wound. James T. Kirk was too much like Spock himself. 

"You are convinced that you can find your mother by remaining in StarKid until your brother returns?" Spock asked impassively. 

"If I put everything into finding her, I believe I can," she responded earnestly. 

"Then let this ring once again become a symbol for your mother," Spock replied emotionlessly, and launched it into the centre of the fountain. "Will your earnestness be any use to finding her now?" 

Kirk stared at him in horror, looking back towards the fountain as if not comprehending what Spock had just done. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you heartless fucking bastard?!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, clenching her fists in the front of his robe and twisting the fabric between her fingers, almost ripping it. "I just explained to you how important it was to me!" 

Spock pried her fingers away, saying, "You chose to involve symbolism in our conversation to prove your conviction to me and to better comprehend it yourself. I am Vulcan, Miss James T. Kirk, and human symbolism is something with which my people are not fully familiar. I apologise if you are unsatisfied with my interpretation of your symbolic choices, but I am attempting to explain _my_ self in the terms you set yourself. Your mother has abandoned you, and it is childish and immature to believe that your efforts will make her wish to be with you once again. Your name is already well-known throughout the Federation. If your mother were searching for you, she would have found you by now. Like the ring that you chose to represent her, she is gone forever. Cease pretending to be James T. Kirk." 

"The ring isn't lost forever," she said through clenched teeth. 

"Will you wade in the fountain all night to find it?" Spock retorted prettily. 

"In the name of fucking symbolism, I will!" she protested. 

"If you find the ring, I will trust your conviction and determination to search for your mother by being in StarKid," he told her, setting an ultimatum. 

"Oh, I'll find it, alright, even if it takes me _longer_ than all night! So leave me the fuck alone, you bastard," she growled, stepping over the railing and into the water. 

Kirk was wearing sportswear: a sweatshirt and tight trousers, made out of a thick material. After a few moments of contemplating, she removed the sweatshirt from her body to reveal a tank top. She was visibly discomforted by revealing much of her upper body, but she tossed the sweatshirt at Spock, who caught it and hung it carefully over the railing. She waded to the other side of the fountain, where she bent over and began to dig through the marsh growth. 

There was barely any semblance of female curvaceousness throughout her entire body. Her chest was flattened against her chest effectively with the use of a binder, and well-toned muscle was visible underneath the skin of her shoulders and upper back. Her waist was thin, her hips as well. The builds of both her quadriceps and calves were visible through the material of her trousers. Spock belatedly realised that he would have appreciated the view of her body under different circumstances. However, she was currently running her fingers through her hair in frustration, and the expression she wore that of anguish. Spock looked away, ashamed of himself for his sudden inappropriate train of thought, and retreated to his hotel. If he were right about Kirk, she would search the wide expanse of the fountain, only to realise that there was no ring and give up. 

The silver ring still rested in the pocket of Spock's robes. A small pebble which he had picked up earlier that day was what he had pitched into the water. 

The fountain was visible from the balcony of Spock's hotel room. It covered the majority of the plaza in front of the building. It was filled with rocks, American metal currency that went out of circulation in the late twenty first century, and vegetation growth that imitated marshes, which dirtied the waters, leaving the bottom of the pool unclear. In the night’s darkness, Kirk roamed around from one end to the other, attempting to cover every centimetre of space. Every step of the way, she bent over to skim her hands over the bottom of the fountain, searching for the ring. 

Extreme guilt flooded Spock, and the need to rectify his cruel, impulsive action became overwhelming. Kirk was human, however, and could comprehend the meaning of symbolism in a way Spock could not. After being unsuccessful, she would that her search for her mother would result in the same thing. 

After meditating and failing to purge the guilt from his _katra_ , Spock fell into a restless sleep. 

He woke up at dawn approximately four hours later, which usually granted him a satisfying rest. Today, however, the unease from the events that had passed the day before still coursed within him. He quickly moved to the balcony, looking to see if Kirk had stubbornly remained in the water. To his surprisingly overwhelming relief, he could not see her thrashing amongst the weeds. 

His eyes widened in shock when her figure emerged from behind a boulder. Her shoulders had sunken inwards, and even from a distance, she looked unbearably fatigued. Even from their short time of knowing each other, Spock should have realised that Kirk would not stop for a moment to consider her health. She had no problem of putting it in danger. 

Spock swiftly made his way to the fountain railing, where he could clearly see Kirk's exhaustion. 

"Are you here just to gloat bait me into quitting?" she asked bitterly. "Just because you would, I'm not going to." 

Her words held an unspoken implication that burned Spock, but they were the truth. Even though he would not have pursued symbolism to explain his intentions, he would have given up on the search for his mother. What Kirk did not know was that Spock already had. 

James T. Kirk was stronger than he was. Her determination was something Spock had lost long ago, but her katra still held an indomitable spirit. 

"You don't have to search for it any longer, Miss James T. Kirk," he told her, holding out his palm to reveal the ring. "I have it." 

A myriad of emotions flashed across Kirk's face, one after the other. They included confusion, disbelief, hope, and anger. As she approached him, her pace slowed by the water that reached her knees, he averted his eyes, his most likely unforgivable offence standing between them. 

"I apologise for testing your conviction by placing you through a pointless ordeal," he told her. "It was illogical to assume that through experiencing a loss similar to my own, you would have the same reaction. You are correct in assuming that I would give up. It would be dishonourable of me not to grant you an opportunity to find your mother." 

Kirk had pulled back her hand in a fist, and he could have easily parried the punch she wanted to throw. He kept his hands in place, however, ready to accept the consequences of his coldheartedness that he deserved. 

He looked up at her, however, when all that he experienced was a half-hearted shove of his shoulder. Tears were running down her face silently, and she hit him in the shoulder once again. Then, unexpectedly, her arms encircled his neck, and Spock had to grab her waist to prevent her from completely falling on top of him. 

"You're a bastard," she whispered. "I hate you. I can't believe you did that. That was the most illogical thing you've ever done, probably. I thought I wasn't ever going to find that ring, you know. I was prepared to die in there. You probably don't put any value in materialistic objects, and I know it's not actually the same thing as my mom, but I told you how important it was to me. I don't think I'll ever forgive you for this." 

Even as she said so, she wrapped his arms tighter around him. Spock permitted himself to return the embrace for an appropriate amount of time before pulling her back to look at him. 

"I cannot promise you that I will help you in your search, but I will not reveal your secret," he told her. 

"Thank you," she responded seriously. 

"I also suppose it wouldn't be inappropriate if I moved back into our suite," he added. 

"Really?" she asked, her face lighting up. 

"I am the only one who will be able to protect you from your own tendencies of placing yourself in danger, or in the danger of being discovered," Spock pointed out. 

"You actually like me underneath your thick layer of Vulcanness, don't you?" she asked, smiling slyly. 

"Your excitement at having the ability to destroy any semblance of my privacy once again is unsettling," he informed her. 

~ 

A photoshoot was scheduled for all four of them later that day, which Jen absolutely wasn't prepared for. She hadn't paid attention as Sulu talked about their week's schedule yesterday afternoon, because she had been busy thinking about a plan of convincing Spock to let her stay in StarKid. It worked, technically, but Spock seemed to have taken the long way around it, with the whole look-for-it-in-the-pool-even-though-it's-not-there part being factored in. She still couldn't believe that a supposedly logical Vulcan like Spock could pull a stunt like that. But then again, she pulled a cheesy stunt like giving Spock the ring, and Jen Kirk didn't usually do cheesy, if ever. 

From their conversation, she gathered that Spock had family issues, too, but she didn't feel it was right to inquire. 

The unexpected photo op was to take place by an indoor swimming pool. The topic of potential shirtlessness wasn’t covered, and Jen was too afraid to ask. What if it was implied, and asking would somehow give her away? But even if it didn't, and the answer was that yes, she was done for. She would probably have to make herself sick and run off. 

Spock's incessant jabs were what annoyed her the most. He probably thought he was super clever, but in reality, he was just a heartless hobgoblin, like Bones kept pointing out. 

"Are you looking forward to your first experience at modelling, _James T. Kirk_?" Spock would ask. 

"Are you making small talk, _Mister Spock_?" she would deadpan. 

"Indeed not, James T. Kirk," he would respond pleasantly. "I am genuinely concerned about the likeliness of something going awry because of your presence, and am attempting to not 'hurt your feelings', as humans put it, by directly stating that this session will transpire to be a disaster." 

"Well, you just said it," she would mutter, and everyone else would look at them, like they were a pair of lunatics at a mental hospital, which was probably whom they actually resembled in those moments. 

Jen thanked God about five million times after finding out that all of them just has to model in a white tanktop and shorts. Even though she was lankier than all of them, wearing a white binder underneath would hide anything obvious. 

Modelling didn't come easily to Jen. The photographers kept expecting her to look natural in poses that were far from the way she actually held her body. She had to look willowy in positions that were awkward for her. To top it off, they didn't say a word to Spock after positioning him in front of the camera. He always looked like he had a stick up his ass, but they seemed to accept it as part of his Vulcan charisma and appeal. Spock, Bones, and Chekov ended up being off the hook after a while, leaving Jen alone to do take after take. 

"Modelling is really fucking difficult," Jen commented to Bones during one of her own breaks. “And stupid.” 

"Yeah, it is," he said. "Photoshoots are much less appealing than they seem to be. And they're always this annoying, with many takes and retakes. If you ever feel like you're doing poorly, just remember the story of my first photoshoot. They wanted me to hold a wine glass, but it wasn't actually wine. I didn't know, obviously, since I was a naïve, young musician back then, who thought quite idealistically of the world. The photographer called for one shot, and I thought he meant the drinking type of shot. I drank that ridiculously cheap, disgusting grape juice." 

Jen cracked up, her spirits lifting. "Jesus, Bones. Even I wouldn't make that mistake." 

Bones cuffed her on the back of the head affectionately. "Shut up, kid," he growled. 

After all of her shoots were completed, she walked with Spock in the direction of the pool locker rooms. 

"It is quite unfortunate that topless shots were not required," Spock commented tonelessly. 

"Why, did you want to show off your chest hair?" Jen asked, bumping his shoulder with hers. 

Spock opened his mouth, as if to protest that he didn't have chest hair, but seemed to think better of it. Chest hair was a particular physical trait that Vulcans possessed, and there was no point in denying it. 

"I was anticipating your performance under the circumstances," he told her, raising an eyebrow. "And indeed, you are correct in your statement. I have been told by numerous photographers and supporters that chest hair gives me a uniquely sexual appeal." 

He walked ahead of her, probably hiding his annoying Vulcan smirk. Jen just stared after him, gaping like a fish out of water. Jesus Christ, why was he so sassy? 

She didn't even realise that her plan to change in the female locker room was not going to be successful. It hit her when she stood in front of it: she couldn't walk into it without giving herself away. But neither could she change in the men's. 

"I just realised that I left my socks somewhere on the pool deck," she lied casually, turning towards Bones and Chekov, who were walking behind her. 

Chekov gave her a curious look, but Bones just nodded quickly. 

"Make sure to hurry, 'cause we're leaving soon," he said. 

Jen nodded, running back in the direction of the pool deck. The photographers were already almost gone when they headed out, so they should be gone by now. She'd have a place to change without any curious eyes. 

She was relieved to find that the lights were dimmed and that there was no one inside. She dropped her clothing bag on the ground and began to strip off her clothing quickly. But just as she had rid herself of her shirt, leaving her in her binder and briefs, she heard voices at the entrance of the pool. 

It was two members of the photoshoot staff, and they were talking between themselves, apparently looking for a missing piece of equipment. It was still dark, and they technically couldn't see her from where she was changing in dark corner. As soon as she knelt by her bag to reach for her clothing, though, the lights came on. 

Jen would be in their plain sight if they turned around, and she didn't have many options. Running back into the hallway would surely reveal her to Bones or Chekov or someday else, if they just stepped one foot out of the locker rooms. Changing would take too long. She could always throw her shirt back on, but one of the men was already turning around to look in her direction. 

As quietly as possible, she slipped into the water. 

She had practiced holding her breath during Academy training, because it was likely that it would come in handy when she was trapped on a hostile planet, with the natives having chased her off of a cliff and into the ocean, where her ship was secretly docked. Now, she took a deep breath, knowing that the men had about four minutes to leave before she passed out underwater and drowned. 

She carefully glided along the bottom of the pool towards the other end, trying to track any movement to see if they were still in the area. But even as she saw them move away, the lights didn't dim. She didn’t want anyone to see her in such questionable attire, because her binder would just speak for itself. But her four minutes were slowly ticking by... 

When her oxygen supply ran out, her lungs convulsed, fighting for air that she couldn't give them. Spots clouded her vision, so she closed her eyes. It didn't help. She knew she had to swim up to the surface now or pass out gulp water. She started moving her arms to propel herself upwards. The surface was so far away, though, and her arms felt so heavy. 

Suddenly, Jen could hear a splash at the surface of the water. She didn't have the strength to open her eyes and see who had come to save the her, the drowning damsel in distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about Jen insensitive to trans issues in this one.


	4. Chapter 4

Strong hands pushed Jen to the surface of the water. When her head reached the surface, she sputtered and gasped, still unable to open her eyes. She thrashed around, kicking something soft with the ball of her foot in her attempt swim to the edge of the pool as quickly as possible. As soon as she reached the edge, she rubbed her eyes to clear them. Thankfully, the men had gone, so she pulled herself out of the water. 

As she quickly threw her on her own menswear, she realised that no one was following her out to the surface. She rushed to the pool's edge, looking around the perimeter desperately to notice a body in the water. Finally, she saw a dark shape, floating upwards. Even though he was facing downward, the black hair and pointy ears revealed Spock. Why wasn't he swimming? 

He was close enough for Jen to pull him towards the edge by his clothing. She dragged him out despite her protesting muscles, heaving, and rolled him over to see his passive face. 

Oh, shit. In her suffocated state, she hadn't realised that she had probably kicked an important body part. What if she had kicked his throat, making him gasp in water and choke? And all after he had saved her life, again! 

She knelt over him, immediately beginning to follow the procedure taught to her at the Academy. She called Bones over at the top of her lungs, not caring about her cracking voice: getting a doctor to Spock was more important than anything else right now. While she felt for his pulse and airway, she quickly called emergency. She felt his airway, heart skipped a beat, when she realised that he wasn't breathing. 

Jen began to perform rescue breathing and CPR, at which point Bones ran up and pushed her aside. Now wasn't the time to say that she had some minimal medical training: getting Spock to breathe was all that mattered, and Bones would be more useful than Jen. 

When Spock coughed up water, Jen was torn between clutching at his wet robes or her own chest in relief. He looked around in a daze, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Jen. 

"Your ability to powerfully kick my airway compromising me during your rescue, effectively reversing our positions, shows most promising talent," he told her angrily. Some of the heat was lost behind his uneven breaths. 

"I'm so sorry, Spock," she said, taking his hand once Bones left to talk to the medics. She also completely forget her crash course on Vulcan biology from Scotty. "I shouldn't have let myself stay in the water for so long. I was scared that the men that were here would see me and find out." 

Spock eyed her hand, twisting his own in her light grip so that they were palm to palm. He gently reached his index and middle finger towards hers, as she watched in fascination and puzzlement. 

Her expression collapsed as he simply flicked her own fingers away. 

Jen looked up at his face in mock hurt, unable to hold a grudge at the man who was almost hurt for good because of her. He raised an eyebrow at her snarkily, and she shook her head in amusement. Even while shivering like a wet cat, he could still give her the stink-eye. 

When the ambulance arrived, Spock protested that he was fine, trying to prove it by getting up to his feet. He had a slightly difficult time breathing, however, and Bones just gave him the _look_. Even Spock didn't argue with it, complying grumpily and accepting a medical assistant's supporting grip on their way to the emergency vehicle. 

Jen stayed behind, mentally kicking herself. How would she ever make it up to Spock now? His life was in perpetual danger around her, but he was more likely to go insane because of her first. It looked like he was already getting there. 

~ 

"President Sulu, I do not require an overnight stay at the hospital," Spock protested, keeping his voice as level as possible. 

"It's really late, Spock," Sulu pointed out. "Just check out first thing tomorrow morning." 

"I have no qualms with hailing a cab at this time," Spock replied. 

"Do you really think you can handle all of the fangirls surrounding the hospital right now?" Sulu asked. "They're out there's with their posters and shit, and you're going to be dead meat if they see you leaving. And I can't sneak you out the back, since I'm driving home in another direction. You know how traffic is here in the evening: I wouldn't be able to get home by morning if I drove you, too. Besides, we're taking advantage of the great public response we're getting at your stay here." 

"The response to my hospitalisation has been positive?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"For Jim, at least. Some passionate fan club leader started a James T. Kirk support squad, and now they're out there with signs that thank him for saving your life. He's finally getting positive attention instead of negative, and we should be extremely grateful for that." 

"I find it tempting to inform the public that James T. Kirk was the cause of my accident," Spock told Sulu, who waved it off. "And it was in fact McCoy, who offered medical assistance." 

"But Jim pulled you out of the water, right?" Sulu asked with a smile. "And _you_ were the one the ambulance had to pick up, even if he were drowning before you." 

"As I previously stated, I did not require an ambu-" 

Sulu clapped Spock on the shoulder. "The StarKid van will pick you up tomorrow morning." 

Spock was left alone with the injustice done unto him by James T. Kirk. She was both a dangerous and danger-prone individual, completely capable of unintentionally threatening the life even of the person who saved her from an illogical, suicidal attempt at hiding her identity. Had Spock not finished dressing earlier than he had, he would not have overhead the voices on the pool deck where he had known Kirk to be changing. He understood her need to hide, but she had remained in the water even after the staff members had exited the pool deck. She had decided against the risk of being seen, instead taking the risk of losing her life. 

The public was simply mistaken about the true identity of the saviour, Spock assured himself. 

He had not believed in any nature of luck at any period of time in his life. However, meeting James T. Kirk made Spock realise that bad luck was indeed what ensnared this woman. Spock could almost hypothesise that it was the cause of his own 'close call' today. 

~ 

T'Pring of Vulcan stood in a Terran hospital room above the sleeping child, pressing her fingertips to his psi points. Her face was a mask of compassion and sadness, captured brilliantly by the cameras. If Vulcans had tear ducts, she would instruct her body cry. 

Even the unintelligent, lowly photographers understood the importance of a Vulcan meld and its healing abilities. T'Pring searched through the child's mind for sources of sickness and distress. After locating the core of his concussed mind, she aligned his thoughts, healing both the physical and the mental in the process. 

The child opened his eyes in three point four two seconds, and he threw his arms around her neck. She returned his embrace tentatively, firmly keeping her smile in place. Applause, weeping, and camera flashes ensued. Even though a Terran doctor could have easily healed the child, T'Pring had been asked by his distressed mother, after T'Pring had reluctantly arrived at the hospital for public appearances. 

Known as the Healer from Heaven, T'Pring gained Terran and Federation-wide appreciation by performing simple Vulcan techniques as per invitation of ordinary citizens. Born and raised on Vulcan, she was an opera singer and a harpist. According to her publicist, her debut album had soothed the nerves of millions of listeners. Some had even regained control over issues from their personal lives. She was currently visiting Earth specifically New York, for a series of performances, planning on continuing with her tour soon. 

As she walked out of the room and turned herself away from the cameras, her smile and sympathetic expression fell away. She was not opposed to healing minds. She had been become a mind healer under the guidance of T'Pau herself, before pursuing her musical capabilities. However, she was unable to and disinterested in emotionally investing herself in every single sickly child who crossed her path. Only appearance of doing so was logical. Human beings did not understand or respect the nature of Vulcan stoicism and logic. 

T'Pring left the hospital, entering her dressing van. The chauffeur was absent, but her personal assistant was sitting in the back, having waited for her here. 

"It is quite tiring to be a comfort to distressed human females," she said, inspecting tear stains left on her face by the the mother of the child. "Stonn, I require tissues." 

"Your required tissues will not be found here," came a voice from behind. It did not belong to Stonn. 

T'Pring turned around, concealing her surprise at seeing Schn T'gai Spock of Vulcan, leader of StarKid. 

"I surmise that you have entered the wrong van," he commented absently. 

"Spock of Vulcan, peace and long life," T'Pring said respectfully, bowing her head and offering the _ta'al_. "I apologise for the inconvenience. I have unintentionally disturbed your person by entering the wrong vehicle." 

"Your public act of courtesy and sympathy is convincing," Spock said, raising an eyebrow and not offering a _ta'al_ in return. "Do you enjoy leading your human supporters to believe that they are appreciated, despite it being a lie? You are lying, T'Pring." 

Annoyance briefly flicked within her, and she succumbed to raising an eyebrow in return. "It is logical to do what is necessary for the success of my career," she pointed out. "No matter what the illogical humans wish to believe, I am not the Healer from Heaven. You are also not the child of the stars." 

"I am not, but I am the child of the planet of Vulcan," Spock said, passing T'Pring a box of tissues. "It does not teach its children the illogic of pretences and fake appearances. Please remove your person from this vehicle, and live long and prosper." 

T'Pring did not allow herself to be seen in a state of indignant shock, much less a Vulcan male. Without offering a farewell in return, she left the vehicle. She lowered her head slightly to prevent anyone from noticing the slight flush of her cheeks and ears. 

~ 

Pavel was slightly scared by the intense vibe that Jim gave off. It was like everyone was suddenly falling in love with him! During the photo shoot yesterday, McCoy was constantly asking about him, whenever Jim had been out of sight for longer than a minute. Pavel understood that Jim carried more danger with him than a Siberian tiger, but what he saw in McCoy's eyes seemed to be more than simple concern. When Pavel asked about it, McCoy just shrugged his shoulders awkwardly and waved him away. 

Then there was that strange comment from Spock. Spock, who was the king of Vulcan preference for abstinence! Had he really implied that Jim would have looked good shirtless? And then commented about his good looks?! Even if Spock secretly had romantic interests, he never talked about them with anyone. What he had with Jim was just blatant flirting, and Pavel couldn't believe his eyes. In the four and something years that he had known Spock, the Vulcan had never expressed his interest in anyone, either man or woman, so publicly. His assumption that Spock was straight after he dated Uhura must have been incorrect. 

Jim was in the kitchen now, quietly sipping from a water bottle. It was morning, and Spock was due back from the hospital at any moment. Pavel didn't know what exactly happened that led to Spock almost drowning. He was a good swimmer, since he was good at everything, really. Maybe Jim had been drowning? But that wouldn't lead to Spock drowning himself. And what would Jim be doing in the water, anyways? He wouldn't go into the pool alone if he were afraid of drowning, and he definitely wouldn't just jump in. 

Tired of guessing endlessly, Pavel sidled up to Jim. He did look really upset, so Pavel thought of a plan to spice things up for the man. 

"What happened last night that made Spock almost down?" Pavel asked. "Don't tell me you tried to kill him on purpose!" 

Jim only shrugged lamely, so Pavel grabbed the sink hose, turned up the water, and aimed it at Jim. He kept one hand on the 'cold' button, preparing himself. 

"If you don't tell me what happened, I'll spray you with water!" Pavel threatened. 

"Oh yeah?" Jim asked, a sly smile blossoming on his face. "Do you want to go down like Spock did?" 

Pavel let out a laugh and made good on his threat. The hose erupted with icy water, spraying Jim before he could get away. He shrieked, trying to make his way towards Pavel against the stream to pull the hose away from him. 

Pavel stopped for a few seconds, taking mercy on Jim. He was almost completely soaked. Water dripped from the strands of his short hair, down his nose and the line of his throat. His smile was relieved, as if all of his worries were forgotten. Pavel tried to swallow over the lump in his throat, but it was difficult, with the blue eyes staring at him elatedly like that. 

He reached to turn the water on again, but at the last moment, someone's hands grabbed the hose and aimed it at him, instead. 

Pavel sputtered, taking a few seconds to realise that he had to turn off the water himself. He looked behind him, seeing McCoy angrily glaring at him. Jim tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, but he ended up having to lean on the kitchen counter for support. 

"Did you just take Jim's side instead of mine?" Pavel argued, feeling completely betrayed. 

"Stop giving Jim a hard time," he told him seriously. "If he gets sick now, he won't be able to do well on his first performance. You know that he wouldn't actually hurt Spock. Spock's just being weird." 

McCoy threw a kitchen towel at Jim, who wiped the water out of his face and hair. "But seriously, what happened, Jim? Spock can swim." 

"My airway became compromised on the pool deck," came Spock's voice from the entrance of the flat. "Oxygen was minimal. My vision failed me, and I was unable to see the proximity of the water. My physical state was far from optimal, and I was unable to hold my breath and make my way to the surface. Jim noticed my body in the water and pulled me out." 

Pavel knew that a compromised airway was a vague explanation. However, McCoy just nodded solemnly, so Pavel did not press it any further, either. 

~ 

Jen stood outside of Spock's room, holding a lunch that she personally prepared for him. She had learned to cook food at the orphanage, when the old replicators broke completely. At the Academy, she learned how to cook even better food. She preferred practicing the culinary arts to eating crappy replicator food everyday. 

She waited patiently for Spock to open the door, having learned her lesson of intruding upon a Vulcan by hacking into his computer system. When he opened the door, he made no show of surprise at seeing her, but he did raise an eyebrow at the plate and utensils in her hands. 

"I made you lunch as a token of my sincerest apologies," Jen said. "I'm a pretty good cook, since I hate replicator food. But I haven't cooked in a while, since I didn't have much time at the Academy recently." 

Spock didn't comment, but he eventually stepped aside to grant Jen entrance. She eagerly skirted into his room, setting the plate at the centre of his desk. 

"I hope you don't mind eating in here," she said worriedly. "Would you like to eat in the kitchen, instead?" 

"This is satisfactory," Spock replied, sitting down at his desk. "Thank you. Your apology is accepted." 

"Thanks for saving me again, and also for covering me just now," she said seriously. "That one would have been difficult to explain. You said you wouldn't help me, and yet here you are! You're great, Spock." 

"It would be illogical to allow you to be discovered after having given you permission to remain here," he stated. "And I only stated that I could not promise you that I would help you find your mother. I did not say that I would not help you remain undiscovered." 

Spock inspected his food gingerly. Jen had made prepared a seaweed salad with some spices and seasoning. Jen knew Vulcans led a vegetarian diet, so she didn't centre the meal around seafood, like she would have for anyone else. The composition of seafood was similar to a type of Vulcan plant often used to prepare meals, so she hoped that Spock wouldn't mind it. 

After observing it for a couple of seconds, however, he recoiled. 

"This contains sesame seasoning?" he asked, though the inflection of his tone made it more of a question. 

"Yeah," Jen responded glumly. "You don't like it?" 

"I am allergic," he explained, standing from his desk. Jen's face paled with horror. "A certain biological factor makes me unable to process various foods. The Terran foods include sesame, lemon grass, and soy." 

"Jesus fuck," Jen muttered. "I'm so sorry, Spock. I have so many allergies myself, many more than other people usually have, that I've never had to think of watching out for someone else's instead of my own. You'd think it would have have been the other way around. I didn't know." 

"The fact that you did not know is undoubtedly what makes you a dangerous individual, James T. Kirk," Spock told her. "No actual harm has come to me from this particular encounter. I apologise for not being able to accept it." 

"When I try to make it up to you for getting in your way, I just get in your way even more," Jen muttered. 

"I suggest that you do not attempt further to 'make it up' to me, James T. Kirk," Spock said with a raised eyebrow. "I truly do not wish for the unintentional demise of either of us." 

~ 

The next two weeks were spent in preparation for the Terran Music Festival. That included dance and singing rehearsals. She didn't have any experience in recording and doing multiple takes of the same pieces over and over again, and especially none in dance before her time spent with StarKid. However, Bones always reassured her, saying that she was doing fine for a newbie. Getting the hang of things had been quite difficult for all of them. 

Spock was always particularly picky about the qualities of their recordings. He had a right to be, since they were the pieces he composed. They did takes for hours, and there were times when she didn't even notice the differences between the inflections in her voice that he placed the most stress on. She was also slowly progressing on the marimba and xylophones, which were the percussion instruments that needed to be covered in some of the more melodic pieces. At first, they had seemed simpler than a guitar, base, and drum set, but Jen quickly realised how much she needed to practice to be up to par for Spock. 

Jen felt like complaining to him, since he knew that music wasn't her primary choice. She might have, if this were a week ago. But after almost killing Spock several times over, and after he had graciously let her keep up her James T. Kirk appearance, she felt guilty at the prospect of nagging at him about his perfectionism. After all, wanting to be the best, even if in two different fields, was something they had in common. 

She spent all of her free time bent over her PADD and a notebook, religiously studying for her exams. She would still have to take them when she got back to the Academy. Thinking about Starfleet made her realise how drastically different being in StarKid was from her real life. She knew the boundaries that she needed to push there, and the ones she should stay away from. She understood cars, spaceships, and consoles. She knew her leadership bearings, and that her voice would have a say. Being in StarKid was like being thrown onto a planet with a less oxygenated atmosphere. She constantly felt slightly out of balance, as if the whole world wanted to crush her. 

Jen also didn't forget her real reason for being here. She spent some time trying to locate Frank, but he seemed to have disappeared from New York. She called into some smaller, less expensive hotels in the area, and hacked into their guests lists if they refused her, but she didn't find his name. She asked Scotty and Uhura to help with it, too. Scotty looked reluctant to do anything illegal, but the stylist told him to grow some balls and made him swear that he would help her ask around. 

Even though Jen was getting better at staying out of everyone's way, specifically Spock's, she was constantly haunted by the idea of her true identity being revealed. She figured that she probably looked like a chased hare, with round, spooked eyes ninety percent of the time. She couldn't afford to relax and let her guard down. That could mean accidentally forgetting to do her belt and then see her pants fall off in the middle of a rehearsal, or something else shitty like that. 

After a dance rehearsal one day, she entered a public men's restroom to relieve herself. She was getting being less jumpy and just plain disgusted at seeing random guys with their dick hanging out in front of the murals. She always used the stalls, and she avoided leaving them before everyone else in the bathroom had left. She didn't want anyone becoming suspicious of her for using the stall just to take a leak. 

Now, however, she had to pass a group of dance trainees to get to a stall. It was nothing unusual for her, and she walked by them with only a single glance. They, however, eyed her as she passed the urinals. 

"Where are you going?" one asked. "Are you embarrassed of us being here, or something?" 

Jen turned around to face them, leaning on the wall in a nonchalant manner. 

"I need to take a shit, that's why," she told him. "Are you going to stay around to listen?" 

"I don't believe you," he responded. "I bet you just feel like you deserve your privacy from people like us. The fact that you made it into a famous band doesn't give you the excuse of acting snobby and stuck up." 

"Go take your self-esteem issues somewhere else, please," she said, entering a stall. When she heard that they were still there, Jen held back a sigh of frustration. What the fuck was wrong with them? 

Seeing no other way out, she began making awkward groaning noises, trying to make them realise that she was there for real gastronomical purposes. Leering, they finally left, and Jen breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Everyone hates me already," she muttered. "I wonder what they would do if they knew that I’m actually a girl." 

When she left the stall, her eyes met one of the trainee's, who stared at her in horror. 

"You're a girl?" he asked in a strangled voice. 

Not being able to come up with any explanation, as she had just said that loud enough for him to hear, she darted out of the restroom as fast as possible. 

"Stop Kirk!" the guy yelled at the top of his lungs, as he chased Jen down the hallway. "He's a girl!" 

"Jim, you're a girl?" came Sulu's shocked voice somewhere from behind her. 

The trainee's shouts had been caught by the fans, who all stared at Jen as she ran out of the building as fast as her feet could carry her. Some threw their posters and tiaras at her, and others even ended up throwing tomatoes, which actually really hurt. They began to stampede after her, and she wondered what distances she would have to run to get rid of them. 

Suddenly, a familiar sleek red hover car pulled over by the curb, and the tinted window rolled down to reveal Pike. He was wearing a pair of shades and a suit, and her surprise at seeing him made her stop in her tracks. 

"Sir?" she asked quizzically. 

"Listen, Jen, are you short of breath from running?" 

"Um, not yet," she replied. 

"Do you have a scratch from where that placard slashed your arm?" 

Jen checked, but there was nothing there. She shrugged. "I'm not that tired or hurt." 

"That's unusual," Pike pointed out. "Does anything else seem unusual to you?" 

Jen looked around, realising that the sound of angry screaming had faded into the background. She looked back at Pike, but the red hover car was gone. Was she dreaming? She pinched herself... 

...and startled up on her toilet seat. The jealous dance trainees were gone, and no one was filing charges or pressing her with questions. 

She breathed a sigh of relief. When did she have the opportunity to worry enough and tire herself into a nightmare? She needed to get a good night's sleep tonight, for sure. 

She met Spock, Bones, and Chekov at the entrance of the building, where they were waiting for her. They left together, stopping to sign a few autographs here and there since they could afford the time. They had nothing in their schedules for the rest of the day. 

Jen was surprised to see a small collection of posters praising James T. Kirk alongside the other StarKid members. She hadn't realised that she had fallen in favour of the slightly over-the-top fan club, but that must have happened, since several girls even ran up to her for an autograph. 

"Didn't you hate me a short while ago?" she asked one girl in amusement. Jen recognised her, actually: it was Christine, the passionate Spock girl, whom she met outside of the office on her first day with StarKid. 

Christine shook her head vehemently, shoving a notepad and pen under her nose. "No, Mister James T. Kirk! You saved our beloved Spock's life! You, sir, are a hero." 

Jen shrugged, acquiescing, even though she would probably argue against that. She picked up the pen, about to sign, when she realised that Jennifer T. Kirk's signature was out of commission. It quite obviously read 'Jennifer,’ as opposed to being an illegible scribble. Obviously enough, at least, for someone to notice that it was longer than 'James'. In fact, she hadn't thought at all about copying Jim's signature while here. She didn't exactly go out buying things - everything she needed was provided for her. She didn't need much more than she already had at the flat. 

Carefully, she printed 'James T. Kirk' for the several fans who approached her. Compared to the other StarKid members' signatures, who all signed in a flourish, it seemed really lame and unstylish. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spock sign in Vulcan calligraphy. It looked nothing like the Standard alphabet, or any pictograms she had ever seen, and the girl who had received his autograph cooed in awe. Spock looked at her briefly, before looking down at her own signature. He raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his lips twitched just slightly. Jen knew damn well that it was a smirk, and she fake smiled back. He responded in turn by signing in a fancy flourish on another girl's notepad, his eyes not leaving hers. 

Once they returned home, they settled down to prepare a group lunch. They didn’t have many of those recently, as their schedules and breaks didn't coincide more often than not. This afternoon, however, they were all here. Without even needing to discuss it, they automatically began preparing food together. 

It was interesting to watch the three of them interacting in the kitchen. They were all so different, yet the synchronisation that the cooking begged of them was similar to the one they possessed in the practice rooms and studios. Chekov bounces around on the balls of his toes, humming Russian ballads and StarKid's pieces under his nose. Bones muttered in annoyance while cutting vegetables. Spock stoically stood in front of the sink of the oven, not letting his posture relax for a single second. Jen just watched them with a smile on her face, trying to pay attention to what she was doing to not accidentally cut herself. 

When they were all settled around the kitchen table, Jen felt the sudden awkwardness that accompanied their silence. She found it strange that the three of them had formed a band together, as they seemed such unlikely friends. Now, she wondered if they really were as close as she assumed they needed to be to work and live together in such close proximity. They had only formed about a year ago, when Bones and Chekov were still at Berkley together, and Spock had visited San Francisco during a solo tour. But did they really have nothing to say to each other that didn't pertain to music? She opened her mouth, about to start a likely forced conversation, when Chekov spoke before her. 

"I saw a video of T'Pring the other day," he began eagerly. "Spock, she was staying in the same hospital as you! She had healed a human boy, and she had even hugged his mom out of sympathy! I didn't know Vulcans liked to do that kind of thing. Isn't she amazingly unique?" 

Spock raised an eyebrow at Chekov mid-chew, while Bones looked over at the Vulcan. The Russian's face fell. 

"You guys must love T'Pring, right?" he asked nervously. "She is a wonderful _girl_. Completely feminine yet strong and individualistic. Do you like T'Pring, Spock?" 

"No," Spock replied tersely. "She is often even more illogical than humans, despite her belief that her logic is flawless. She upholds fake appearances of sympathy and compassion, when she does not experience these feelings even deep in her _katra_." 

"What about you, Leonard?" Chekov asked with a sweet smile. 

"She does seem kind of fake and cold," Bones agreed. "Even colder than Spock." 

"Thank you, Leonard," Spock commented, and Jen almost spit out her food from surprise at hearing his joke. 

"What about you, Jim?" Chekov asked. "Do you appreciate her mysteriousness? I have heard that it hides quite the charm." 

"Um," Jen replied through a mouthful of food. "I don't really know who T'Pring is. No offence. I mean, I gauge from what Spock said that she's Vulcan." 

"You really haven't heard of the Healer from Heaven?" Bones asked. "A better nickname would be Healer from Hell." 

"One might question the legibility of your experience in the performing arts industry," Spock said coldly. "I agree with Leonard's comparison. T'Pring of Vulcan is an manipulative individual, who exploits her past healing experiences and human emotional weakness to garner attention for her musical career." 

"I thought Vulcans weren't about the manipulation life," Jen joked lamely. 

"Like humans, Vulcans are flawed," fixing her with a cold, pointed stare. "Some are unable to accurately follow the Vulcan Way." 

"Y'all need Surak," Jen muttered, this time snorting at her own stupid joke. Spock looked mildly pleased when she managed to choke on the food she was chewing. That bastard. 

"You must have no appreciation for real talent," Chekov huffed, joining into the amusement at the table. 

~ 

After returning to her room, Jen suddenly remembered the problem of her signature, or lack thereof. She immediately sat down at her desk to settle the problem. She tried copying Jim's, which she had used to sign the contracts on her first day with StarKid. She was unsuccessful, however, as his was a weird scribble that would be impossible to make her own. She could write is slowly, but it would never look or be natural for her. She tried using the style of her own signature to write her brother's name, but that failed, too. She had forged it a long time ago, when she was still ten or something, and her hand just couldn't spell 'James T. Kirk' in the same way. Eventually, she realised that she would have to come up with something completely new. 

Once she had a few of her own ideas, she went over to Spock's quarters, waiting patiently until he opened the door to let her in. 

"I've been trying to come up with my own 'James T. Kirk' I'm-a-fancy-ass-bastard flourish," she explained, handing him the paper of her ideas. "I hadn't thought about it until now, really. Which one do you like? Yours is, ah, really great, so I'm asking." 

Spock studied the signatures for a moment, before handing the sheet of paper back to her. 

"Well?" she prodded. 

"None of the options are satisfactory," he said bluntly. 

"Well, I'm sor _ry_ for sucking at coming up with signatures, Mister Pickypants, but you do realise that coming up with one is hard for most people, right?" she said angrily. "I have an excuse: James T. Kirk isn't actually my name. It's Jennifer. And isn't it illogical to focus on aesthetic qualities of a signature, anyways?" 

"It is logical to create a unique signature to prevent anyone from being able to forge it," Spock pointed out. "If you are aware of the illogic of choosing a signature based on its aesthetic qualities, you should not have approached me with the purpose of me choosing one based upon them." 

"Then why are they all unsatisfactory for you?" Jen protested. 

"Some are too unclear to be replicated by you, even with practice," Spock responded. "Others are too clear to the common eye." 

"Right," Jen said with a huff. "Can you help me make one?" 

"Absolutely not," Spock responded, barely raising an eyebrow. 

"Why not?" Jen asked. "Then it'll be satisfactory enough for you!" 

"You are allowed to choose a signature that does not reach my standards of satisfaction," he told her. "My approval is not required." 

"Fine, don't help me. I'll ask Bones." 

Spock said nothing, so Jen marched off, looking for Bones. She should have realised that Spock would be as uncooperative as this. She wondered what his life was like, before there were anyone to rile him up. 

Bones wasn't on the first floor, so she went upstairs to his room. She had been in it several times before, but she had never done more than stay there for a few brief minutes. He welcomed her in without a second thought. 

"How're you doing, Jim?" he asked, sitting down with her on his bed. "Do you need anything?" 

"Well, I've never thought seriously about choosing a signature before," she said, avoiding the full story. "I just wrote by name in cursive here and there. I'm trying to actually come up with one now. I gave Spock a list of my ideas, but he says that they all suck, so he won't help me. And the ones I came up with are actually pretty bad. Can you help me make one?" 

"You asked Spock for help, of all people?" Bones asked, taking out a pen and some paper and moving to his desk. "What made you think that that hobgoblin would help you?" 

"He's a good person, Bones," Jen insisted, but then considered it for a moment. "Well, most of the time. And anyways, he laughed at me when he saw me printing my name for a fan earlier." 

"Spock, laughing?" Bones asked. He started to try out different signatures. "I'll believe it when I see it." 

"Well, it was Spock's version of a laugh, which is more like a tiny smirk and a tilt of his eyebrow, if you squint," Jen explained. 

"You've only known Spock for a short while, and you can already read his facial expressions," Bones marvelled. "Sounds like a blooming friendship. He'll be damned for not helping you." 

After a few minutes of sketching out different signatures, he offered one to Jen. It was 'J. T. Kirk' in a legible scrawl. It was easy enough to replicate with practice, and it held only the first initial of her first name. It made Jen feel like it could belong to her, too. 

"Thanks, Bones," she said, trying to replicate it already. "I love it." 

"Listen, Jim," Bones began. "Next time, you can come to me first. You'll never know what whether Spock will cooperate or not, but I'll try to do my best to make you feel at home here. Okay?" 

"I'll keep that in mind," Jen said. 

"James T. Kirk might not be an unusual Terran American name, but it is memorable," Bones told him. "Do you know of its origins?" 

"Well," Jen began carefully. "I remember by father telling me when I was little that James was the name of my mother's father, and that Tiberius was the name of my mother's. They had never had any close female relatives, so they named my sister with female names that were similar to mine. If we had a more luxurious childhood, she would probably have protested every day about how sexist that was on their part. I agree." 

"Besides that uncle of yours, you and your sister have no other relatives," Bones said gently. "Do you know what happened to your parents?" 

"Winona Kirk, our mother, was a famous singer at the time that she gave birth to us," Jen began tiredly. "After we were born, though, she disappeared. We lived with our father, George Kirk, who was a renown composer at the time, but he died due to an aneurism. We were only eight when his brother Frank dropped us off at an orphanage. I know that our father died, but I don't know what happened to our mother. I don't want to believe that she just abandoned us without a reason. We tried looking at all kind of different sources to see where she could have gone, but it was as if she had simply disappeared. The reason I've... wanted to be a famous musician my entire life, is for her to find me, if she were indeed looking for us. Frank stopped by the office to drop off an old photo of us with our father. Scotty and Uhura are helping me look for him to question him about my mother." 

"I hope you find her," Bones told him seriously. "Thanks for sharing this with me, Jim. I don't want you to feel alone in this, so feel free to tell me anything. No matter what it may be, I'll make sure to shut my big mouth of mine and listen. Alright?" 

"Alright, Bones," she said with a smile. "Thanks for always trying to make me feel welcome. You're the friend anyone would ask for." 

~ 

As soon as Kirk exited Spock's room, Spock resumed reading about the origins of different musical textures throughout the Federation’s planets. He was only able to focus on the text for six point two three minutes longer, however, before his mind drifted back to her request. 

Spock preferred to keep himself at an emotional distance from the human world that surrounded him, always trying to remain more or less detached from any individuals he worked with. However, Miss Jennifer T. Kirk was becoming proficient at convincing Spock to make exceptions for her. 

He began testing her name in different fonts variations. Eventually, he settled on an original signature of 'Jim Kirk'. It resembled her brother's, which she had shown him as well. Even though it was not her real first name, it was the way she introduced herself to everyone in their sphere of colleagues. Spock also believed that the rugged font was a match for Kirk's spastic personality. 

On his way to Kirk's room, however, he saw her descending the staircase happily. He approached her, intending to present her with the signature he had made for her, but she saw him and spoke first. 

"Bones made one for me," she said smugly. "It's probably better with anything you could have come up with." 

Hiding his disappointment from Kirk, Spock moved the paper with the signature he had settled on behind his back to obscure it from her view. Kirk had already mocked him without knowing the product of his work. She would either mock him further or stumble over apologies and expressions of guilt if she saw that he had indeed complied with her request. However, Spock wished to know if her assumption about McCoy's abilities were correct. 

"May I see the signature you have chosen as your own?" he asked politely. 

Kirk turned the paper so that it faced him. She did not relinquish her hold, however, and her face betrayed her fear at the idea of Spock destroying it. He felt disappointment sink further into his _katra_ , but he understood that it was the consequence of his own actions. He has bluntly mocked and rejected Kirk when she had come to him for help. 

The signature was one of 'J. T. Kirk' in a font similar to Spock's. However, the idea to create a signature using her own initials and last name had eluded Spock. He had to agree with Kirk's assessment. 

"It is quite impressive," he told her. He silently folded the paper behind his back to hide it in the palm of his hand. "I hope you yourself are satisfied." 

Kirk stared at him quizzically, as if surprised to see a positive evaluation from Spock. He, in turn, retreated to his room as quickly as possible. 

~ 

Frank Kirk winced and rubbed his wrists, as soon the jail cell gate closed behind him. He would only have to be here for a night, thankfully, and it wouldn't be that bad. These New York cells were more luxurious than his own room back on the farm. It even had a tv screen visible from where they were situated in the dirty hallway. 

"How was I supposed to know that that pretty boy would have a fake, eight thousand dollar-worth nose?" he asked his cellmate in frustration. "Back where I come from, no man is a pussy enough to press charges over a bar fight. Or get a nose job in the first place." 

His cellmate was an elderly man, who said nothing, only nodding sympathetically. 

"I took a loan that will secure my release tomorrow morning," Frank continued. "My nephew can pay for it, since he's got credits to last him two lifetimes by now. He's Jimmy Kirk, can you believe it? The new StarKid member. I never thought he'd get anywhere in his life, obviously, but here he is: amongst the stars." 

The tv was playing an interview of the famous singer Amanda Grayson. She didn't know Frank Kirk, most likely, but he sure as hell knew her. 

_"What would you say your favourite song is, Miss Grayson?"_ the interviewer asked her onscreen. 

_"Undoubtedly, it is 'Alpha Quadrant',"_ she responded. _"It was a gift to me, written for my birthday. It is the purest form of love that I have ever received."_

"George Kirk is my brother, you see, and James T. Kirk's father. I don't know if you recognise his name: he died about fourteen years ago. He was a famous composer and songwriter at the time. He even wrote that song, Alpha Quadrant, for Miss Amanda Grayson here. Jim's mother disappeared after his and his twin sister's birth. Probably turned tails and ran." 

"Sounds tough," the cellmate grumbled. 

"I feel bad about my decision to give Jim and Jen up to the orphanage all those years ago, so I've been trying to find out more about her," Frank confessed. "I passed him a photo of his old man, him, and his sister, but I didn't know much about Winona Kirk. Jim's manager has been nagging me for the past two weeks. Apparently, Jim is becoming famous to make his mother see his name and find him. I had hoped that I wouldn't have to, but I see now that I have to tell him that finding her is just impossible. That's the least I can do for him now, right?" 

~ 

The Terran Music Festival wasn't tearing up Jen's guts like it probably should have been. She knew she was relatively prepared: she had worked her ass off to get all of the moves down in the performance, and to know all of her queues in the pieces. Groups and solo performers of hundreds of different genres and subgenres from all over the planet were here. Some were even invited from other planets. It was still taking place in New York, but an event like this felt like an experience that she was observing from above and not taking part in herself. 

T'Pring of Vulcan was one of the non-Terran invited performers. The Terran Music Festival was part of her Federation tour, but she would be staying for a little while longer after it ended, apparently. Jen wasn't sure what to make of that, until StarKid actually met T'Pring before any of the performances began. 

They had just arrived outside of the performance hall in their group van with Scotty and Uhura when they saw her walking by. Jen had been forced to see pictures of her, and she had quite a singular appearance, so Jen recognised her immediately. She probably wouldn't tell her apart from any other Vulcan, though, if she were wearing the traditional Vulcan robes, some of which appeared in her photos online. Today, she was wearing anything but. 

She was wearing a black evening dress, which held no decorations, and an otherworldly lavalliere, made of stones which had to be no less expensive than Terran diamonds. It drew attention to her neck and protruding collarbones, which were exposed by the low cut of the shoulders of her dress. Her hair was pinned up exquisitely in a Vulcan hairstyle: braids were stacked in a crown on her head, and a lock of wavy hair descended down her back. She looked more beautiful than any Terran princess of Jen's childhood imaginations could have managed. Jen's throat closed, but she was not sure whether it were from jealousy or fascination. 

Chekov ran up to her excitedly, offering both a _ta'al_ and a bow. She returned them, following Chekov towards the rest of the members of StarKid. 

"Lady T'Pring!" he exclaimed. "I am so honoured to meet you here. I am an enormous fan of you and your work!" 

"Likewise, I am appreciative of StarKid's works," she responded, slightly coldly. She greeted Scotty, Uhura, and all of the members in turn. Spock, though, didn't offer his name. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a look even colder than hers. Jen wasn't very familiar with Vulcan staring contests, but both of their eyes looked as if they would start shooting laser beams. 

"Will you offer your name to me?" T'Pring prodded impatiently after a few seconds. 

"You are as immature as you are illogical and deceitful," he responded. "You are aware of my name and knowing of my person." 

The other guys looked at Spock in confusion, but Jen tried to muffle a snicker. She exchanged a knowing look with Uhura. The human boys might not understand, but T'Pring was obviously trying to outdo herself in front of Spock. She was failing, however, since he didn't look impressed in the least. They had obviously met before, but T’Pring was pretending otherwise. T'Pring looked at both Jen and Uhura scornfully, before bidding a Vulcan goodbye and leaving them alone. 

"Got yourself worked up there?" Jen whispered to Spock in amusement. He turned the cold look in her direction, and the smirk on her face developed into a real laugh. 

The four of them left to go in for makeup and a short rehearsal, while Scotty and Uhura stayed behind. When they entered the building, however, Scotty came running in behind her. He pulled her aside from the group and looked at her excitedly. 

"Frank just came by," he told her. "He's waiting to talk to you by the van." 

"Are you serious?" she gasped. 

"You can't go right now, Jen," he pointed out. "You have a rehearsal and then a performance. How about I talk to him, and then message you about what he said? If it's something important that I won’t understand, I'll keep him there until you're free. Aye?" 

"Okay, that's a good plan," Jen said. "But if you don't message me, I don't know what I'll do with you, Scotty!" 

"Aye, Jen. I get you. Now follow them to Studio B, before they get angry at you for being missing," Scotty said, going back outside. 

Jen rushed to follow StarKid, but they had disappeared from her sight. Distraught and distracted by the anticipation of her talk with Frank, she turned left at the nearest hallway. Studio D was the only room in sight, so she burst into it. Unfortunately, that wasn't the room Scotty named: StarKid wasn't in sight. Only a single woman sat on a sofa. To her shock, Jen saw that it was Amanda Grayson, the woman from the album in Spock's room. 

"Can I have a water please?" Grayson asked, not looking up from her PADD. 

"Oh, um," Jen stuttered, unsure of how to kindly apologise that she had burst into her room by accident, and that she wasn't her assistant, "sure." 

She poured her a glass of water from the jug on the counter. When she approached Grayson, the woman looked up, immediately looking guilty for mistaking her for someone else. 

"Oh, Mister Kirk, I apologise," she said, waving her hand before offering it to shake. "I recognise you from the press conference. I am Amanda Grayson." 

"Oh, I know," Jen assured her, keeping her handshake assertive and confident. "I am pleased to meet you." 

"How is Spock doing?" Grayson asked suddenly. "I am acquainted with him." 

"He's being sour and bitter, as always," Jen said with a smile. She remembered the photo inside the album in Spock's room, but she didn't want to take any chances. "I saw your album in Spock's room by accident. I'm sure that he's your fan and appreciated your work. If you wouldn’t mind, can I have an autograph? I’m sure he would love to have it.” 

Grayson smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. She took the paper pad from her desk and scribbled her autograph, ripping off the page and handing it to Kirk. "You probably have rehearsal right now, Mister Kirk. I don't want to keep you." 

Jen nodded, mumbling an apology and rushing out. Even as she looked for the right studio - still Studio B, apparently -, she couldn't help but check her PADD several times a minute, awaiting for a message from Scotty. 

"You are too distracted by checking your personal messages to focus on your first upcoming concert?" Spock asked from behind her, stopping her in her tracks. "Are you still willing to be a part of StarKid, James T. Kirk?" 

"I don't know, Spock," she replied earnestly. "Scotty is talking with my uncle right now. He said he'll text me anything Frank says about my mother. If he knows where she is, I'm going to look for her. So I will probably be out of your hair soon enough. Thank you for letting me stay until now, at least." 

Spock pursed his lips just slightly, and pulled the PADD out of Jen's hands without warning. 

"Hey!" Jen exclaimed. 

"You are welcome to converse with Manager Scott after the performance," Spock told her. "Keeping the PADD within your reach will be a poor mistake on my part. Please cease being distracted from your current responsibilities." 

Jen sighed, agreeing. But as soon as this was over, she'd get the PADD back and talk to Scotty immediately. 

~ 

The performance passed as successfully as was to be expected. With Spock's preference for diligence perfection, there was no room for error in StarKid. Even Kirk, who had claimed to never perform in front of an audience as grand and energetic as the one present at the Terran Music Festival, did not lack in concentration or excellency. 

After the performance, Spock retreated to an individual changing room to adorn more comfortable clothing. As he was reaching in his bag of personal belongings for his robe, he noticed Kirk's PADD, which glowed with a received message from "the crazy Scotsman:” 

**_> >I'm really sorry to say this, Jen, but I don't think we'll be able to find your mum. Let's meet in person to talk about it, aye?_**

An unfamiliar dread filled Spock. He was not a professional in human interaction, especially those facilitated by electronic devices. However, Scott's decision to prolong a conversation to face-to-face interaction suggested serious news. Positive news, though serious, would not be a problem to convey via PADD messaging. 

Scott, like Spock, was undoubtedly aware that that there was only one thing that would stop Kirk from pursuing her mother. 

Not wasting time to change clothing, Spock left the dressing room in search for Kirk. She was neither in Studio B nor in the hallway outside. He continued to search the halls, however. He did not know whether she would be aware of the new development with her mother. He did not know what he would do in either case, whether she knew or not. Spock was never one to offer comfort of any kind, but something compelled him to find her and offer any meagre ounce of human sympathy possible. 

As he ran by the balcony at the end of the hallway on their floor, he saw her there. She stood with a communicator in hand, her hand dropped loosely by her side. She was looking out into the night sky in what appeared to be a daze. Her reaction answered Spock's question of whether or not Scott had told her. He moved to approach her but stopped short when a sudden sob escaped her. Her fist collided with the wall next to her. She sank to a crouch, hugging her knees and letting her tears fall. 

"Jen," Spock said softly, involuntarily. 

She looked up at him, not blinking or rubbing the tears out of her eyes. 

"She's dead, Spock," Jen whispered. "I didn't even know her, and I'm crying, because she's dead." 

Spock stepped toward her and knelt by her side. Gently, he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him and obscuring her face from others' view. 

"I grieve with thee," Spock said softly. "I am sure that she is now amongst the stars."


	5. Chapter 5

Leonard was changing into his own clothes after the performance, when Chekov suddenly burst back into the room, looking ten kinds of alarmed. He had left to look for Jim, who had run off excitedly to talk to someone using Chekov’s communicator. Now, the Russian looked distraught and flustered, and Leonard started worrying immediately. Something was up with Jim. 

“I just saw Jim crying on the balcony!” Chekov told him urgently. “I really don’t know why. He was so happy before this. Maybe he is sick? Do you think you can check up on him, just in case he is?” 

Concerned, Leonard followed Chekov to the balcony down the hall. The sight that greeted them surprised him, but did not settle the unpleasant nervousness in his stomach. 

Spock crouched next to Jim with an arm around her shoulder. His body blocked the sight of her face, but he could hear the occasional shuddering breath. She most likely wasn’t sick: she was probably just upset about something important. He had noticed her occasionally tear up, but she had always tried to stop others from seeing her break down. To cry like this in front of Spock meant something terrible. Leonard wished he had been there to comfort her first. From the closeness between her and Spock, whom he had before never seen offer such contact even in times of distress, Leonard wondered whether the Vulcan knew what was going on with Jim. Maybe he even knew the truth about her identity. 

Scotty and Uhura both ran onto the balcony, stopping in their tracks at the sight, too. Their expression were obvious mixtures of guilt and pain. 

Spock stood, pulling Jim up by the shoulders gently. “Jim was concerned about his performance,” the Vulcan said simply. “It was an overwhelming experience for him. Despite his success, he was overcome with emotion.” 

It was a blatant lie. Leonard didn’t know how Spock expected to fool anyone with it. By the sights of it, it was only Chekov that was left in the dark about what was going on. Spock was Vulcan, though, so it was impossible for him to understand that even humans didn’t sob tears of happiness alone. There was obviously more to the story. 

As Uhura led Jim away to fix her watered down makeup and pepper her up for the interviews, Leonard’s eyes met Spock’s. He stared back at the Vulcan, not even knowing what he was trying to tell him. To tell Spock that he didn’t believe his words for a second, or to say that he was the one that would be a better shoulder to cry on for Jim. 

~ 

Spock followed Kirk and Nyota into the studio, inexplicably needing to assure himself that Kirk would be alright. 

“You can still do the interview, right, Jen?” asked Nyota in concern. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Kirk responded unenergetically. 

“I am convinced that you cannot,” Spock cut in. “You have just experienced a traumatic event. Please do not partake in the interview. It will require you to maintain a hold of yourself, even though you are not in the frame of mind to do so. In addition, I do not wish to be the scapegoat of your distress by appearing as your antagoniser once again. I will handle the interviews without your assistance.” 

Nyota turned to Spock with raised eyebrows and a sly knowing smile, which Spock did not even bother to decipher. Kirk did not respond, simply staring blankly in front of her. 

“Spock’s right, Jen,” Nyota said softly. “He can take care of things.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I need to be alone.” 

“We need to smuggle you out of here, though,” Nyota said thoughtfully. “If only we could do it without anyone noticing you. Fans are bound to hold you up, if they see you in or outside the building, with how well you all did today.” 

She looked around the studio, and Spock noticed her eyeing the racks of clothing curiously. A plan lit up in her eyes, and she turned to Kirk. 

“But no one will recognise Jen Kirk!” she told her animatedly. Kirk stared back questioningly. 

“There are so many options of dress in this room,” she explained. “If you wear women’s clothing on your way out, no one will be able to tell it’s you. And don’t worry: we can return it. All of theses are rentals, anyways.” 

Kirk seemed like she was about to protest, but Nyota grabbed a variety of boxes and dresses from the racks and pulled the latter into the dressing room. When they emerged, Spock’s eyes were immediately drawn to the distinctly feminine human that stood before him. 

Kirk was wearing a floor-length black dress, which hugged her hips in a way that menswear could not. Dark makeup purposefully framed her face for an emphasis on its femininity, and a wig of black hair extended below her shoulders. Spock belatedly realised that her blue eyes, which he felt compelled to notice above all else, stood out from her unfamiliar appearance. Spock did not want to let himself hold preferences. However, it was not his voluntary or conscious decision to prefer everything about her to be as light as her eyes. 

“I didn’t want the makeup or the wig, but Uhura claimed that they would make me completely unrecognisable, even if my clothing didn’t,” Kirk informed him. 

“She was correct,” Spock told her, noting the surprised look on her face. “I assume that you will be able to find your way outside of the building.” 

Without waiting for Kirk’s answer, he turned on his heel and exited the studio room. He was prepared to head in the direction of the balcony to meet with McCoy and Chekov, when he was stopped by a news reporter. To Spock’s uncontrollable irritation, it was the same Romulan news reporter who had intruded upon them on Kirk’s second day in StarKid. The particular individual was not known for understanding even the basics of privacy or respect. 

“Hello, Mister Spock,” the reporter - Nero - said in a self-satisfied tone. “Might I ask why you are lurking around the dressing rooms at this time, when your interview undoubtedly awaits? Are you possibly waiting for T’Pring? The day you were at the hospital, I saw her climb out of StarKid’s van. How might you explain that?” 

“I do not have time to indulge you in matters that are not your business in the least,” Spock retorted. He was about to leave, but suddenly, Kirk exited the studio, too. 

On the reporter’s face was a look of surprise and curiosity, and Spock knew that the danger of this man deriving false, illogical conclusions increased by the millisecond. 

“We must go,” Spock urged her immediately, grabbing her wrist and running as quickly as possible in the direction of the exit. 

“I can run faster without you dragging my arm!” Kirk shouted over the stomps of their feet. Spock quickly let go, and Kirk gathered the bottom of her dress to follow his lead to the lobby. 

The reporter followed, yelling at them to stop from farther and farther behind them. Soon, however, Spock and Kirk reached the lobby, where a multitude of fans gathered around famous individuals to request autographs. McCoy and Chekov were surrounded by young human females, and Kirk would be able to pass unseen. 

“Do not make eye contact with anyone on your way outside of the lobby, and you will be free of undue attention,” Spock told her. 

“Thanks,” Kirk said with a tired smile, and rushed in the direction of the exit. 

At that moment, T’Pring entered the lobby, followed by the exhilarated reporter. 

“Ah ha!” the reporter screeched, pointing at them animatedly. “Why did the two of you just run out together, if there’s nothing going on?” 

T’Pring looked at Spock questioningly. He, in turn, stifled a sigh of annoyance. The clothing and look that Nyota had created for Kirk had unintentionally coincided almost exactly with T’Pring’s own appearance. 

“Lady T’Pring is here indulge your whims,” Spock said, knowing that she would not be pleased at being left to handle a matter in which she had taken no part. However, T’Pring did not deserve Spock’s sympathy. 

Spock approached President Sulu, who was conversing with another director. 

“Jim will be unavailable for the interview,” Spock said tersely, not bothering with an explanation. Sulu looked at him curiously, but he appeared to trust Spock with whether or not Kirk’s reasons for her absence were validated. 

The interviews themselves did not offer any particularly uncomfortable or unexpected questions. However, the reality of the situation with Kirk’s stayed at the forefront of Spock’s mind. Even McCoy and Chekov, who were not aware of the severity of the situation, did not appear enthusiastic in the least. Thankfully, President Sulu, despite also being uninformed of the news, made excuses to the interviewers for Kirk’s absence without question. 

After the interviews, Spock, McCoy, and Chekov were left alone by President Sulu. They were headed on their way back to their flat in the StarKid van, and a serious silence hung between them. It was a silence that Spock was only able to fill with the truth. 

“I apologise for concealing the truth from you today, but it was not a matter of discussion at the time,” Spock began. “Jim was informed today that his mother, whom he wished to find through his new fame in StarKid, is no longer among the living.” 

McCoy looked at Spock in alarm, and Chekov choked on a shocked gasp. 

“Who were you hiding this from, anyway?” McCoy growled. “Jim already told me about how he wanted to find his mother. What do you think he’ll do now?” 

“Both of you knew that Jim wanted to find his mother?” Chekov asked in dismay, before Spock had the chance to respond. “I thought he was an orphan.” 

“I believed that it would be more relieving for Jim to avoid a discussion about the death of his mother and his now terminated search for her,” Spock said quietly. “As for his current plans, I cannot confidently say that I am aware of them. I hope he will make a decision that will satisfy him.” 

“ _Боже мой _,” Chekov muttered. “I feel so sorry for him.”__

Spock, who had also experienced losing hope in ever having a mother, felt sorry, too. 

~ 

Jen met Scotty outside of the performance hall. He didn’t recognise her at first, but his eyes turned into saucers as soon as he saw Jen underneath the wig, dress, and layers of makeup. Jen offered a smile, but she had no heart behind it. It was evident that she couldn’t muster up anything other pain at the moment. The grief had been an unexpected hit in the chest, a shockwave, an exhalation of all the air in her lungs. It had made it difficult to breathe, and she couldn’t even muster up any surprise at Spock’s act of comfort. All she could do was try to drag herself through the numbness that she felt in her entire body. 

“Frank is waiting to talk to you in a park nearby,” Scotty told her. “I suggest you change in my car before you go. He still thinks you’re Jim Kirk, not Jen.” 

Jen nodded, climbing into Scotty’s parked hovercar and changing back into her James T. Kirk apparel as quickly as possible. She even tried to wash off her makeup with some water and tissues, but it was futile without makeup remover, which was a complete pain in the ass, not to mention almost impossible. Uhura had gone way over the top for this one, but maybe she was right. That blasted reporter was probably too interested in sticking his nose in other people’s business to let anything slide, if he had for a moment suspected her to be James T. Kirk of StarKid outside of the studio there. 

Frank was waiting on a bench nearby, looking engrossed in his hands, which twitched nervously in his lap. He had never been Jen’s favourite person and never would be, but she forced herself to approach him. She needed to hear the truth about her mother from her only living relative. 

“Jimmy!” Frank exclaimed, when he looked up at her. “I’m truly sorry about what happened to your mother.” 

“How do you know she’s dead?” Jen asked, getting straight to the point. 

“Well, I came by that time to your flat to tell you that I’m sorry for dumping you and your sister at the orphanage so long ago,” he began. “I know it’s probably not something you can ever forgive me for, and I don’t want to beg for your mercy. I know the least I can do is share what I know about your mom. I never knew her personally, but when George entrusted you to me on his deathbed, he told me that she was already dead.” 

“Why did you say that she abandoned me, then?” Jen persisted. 

“She disappeared after you were born, but George never said why,” Frank said. “She must have passed while she was God-knows-where.” 

“Do you know anything else?” Jen asked gruffly. 

“George told me that she was supposedly a singer, but I don’t know anything past that,” Frank confessed guiltily. “I wasn’t really involved in any of your lives, and I didn’t want to be. I don’t even know her name until she was gone.” 

“Well that’s just great,” Jen muttered. Even though she knew the name Winona Kirk, there were no records available at the orphanage or practically anywhere else for Jen to learn anything further about her mother. Jen didn’t even know whether her parents had been legally married. If not, it would explain why it was so difficult to find any information on her at all. 

Jen thanked Frank for the help, even though it hurt to reconcile with the truth: her mother was gone. 

Scotty gave her a lift to their flat, not saying anything for a while. Jen knew that he was probably feeling pity and misplaced guilt guilt. Even though those were two things that Jen could barely tolerate, she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. Scotty had pulled her into the whole StarKid business because of Jim’s dream to find their mom, and it was thanks to him that Jen now had to live without a hope of ever seeing her again. It wasn’t Scotty’s fault, though, since Jen had been the one to make the decision to pursue Frank for more information. She was grateful to Scotty and Uhura for helping her. 

“You were doing a good job in StarKid,” Scotty said eventually. “I’m sorry that this is the result of all of your hard work, Jen.” 

“It’s fine, Scotty,” Jen replied. “Thank you for finding Frank for me. That was my goal here, anyway. Even if it hurts, I need to deal with it.” 

“What will you do now?” Scotty asked softly. 

“Well, have you even talked to Jim about this?” Jen asked. “What does _he_ want now?” 

“I told Jim about everything that happened so far a few days ago,” Scotty confessed. “He called me about a week ago after seeing StarKid’s press conference on television. He was having a complete freak out, yelling at me for dragging you into this and telling me how you’ll get caught sooner or later. I have yet to tell him about your mum, though. If he were here instead of you, do you think he’d stay in StarKid after learning that she can’t be found?” 

“I don’t know, Scotty,” Jen replied sadly. “I just don’t know.” 

~ 

The idea of a surprise celebration for Kirk’s first performance was not a comfort to Spock. Like his colleagues and fellow bandmates were aware, Spock was not an individual who preferred to focus his attention on undue merriment, when it was more necessary elsewhere, such as unfinished compositions. However, McCoy and Chekov strongly believed that Kirk deserved a congratulations for his first performance and a distraction from the traumatic news. Through his minimal experience with humans, Spock had come to understand that they preferred to be alone for a certain amount of time while grieving before seeking comfort in others. He chastised himself for not knowing whether or not Kirk would be amenable to partying at this time. Hopefully, her spirits should be lightened from passing the time with her new acquaintances. 

When Kirk entered the room, Spock could clearly decipher the exhaustion expressed in her features. He was about to approach her and offer any comfort possible, once again, when McCoy and Chekov suddenly crowded her, most likely jesting to bring her into the lighter mood of the evening. She smiled at them gratefully and looked around the living room in awe. It was decorated with multicoloured balloons and “Congratulations!” scriptures hanging on the walls. The kitchen table was set with bottles of champagne and wine, and an assortment of preferred appetizers. Everyone present, which was limited to StarKid and Nyota, was wearing a party hat. Even Spock, who had pointed out the ridiculousness of it multiple times, had consented to adorn a blue cone on his head, if only to make Kirk laugh at its obvious illogic. As Chekov wrestled Scott and Kirk into wearing one, too, Spock realised that his presence was not required here. Removing the hat and placing it on the coffee table, he retreated to his room for a more productive evening. 

His work was interrupted however, when there was buzz at his door and Kirk’s persistent voice behind it. 

“Spock, open up!” she said, buzzing in again. 

“Computer, open door,” Spock commanded, turning to look at Kirk’s bemused expression. She was holding his forgotten party hat in her hand and leaning against the inside of the doorway. 

“Did you forget this, friend?” she asked, tossing the hat towards him. Spock caught it with ease, eyeing her curiously. 

“Has our relationship transitioned into a closeness that surpasses acquaintanceship?” he asked her. 

“Of course,” she replied easily. “And don’t pretend that you disagree. You _did_ hold me while I was bawling my eyes out.” 

Spock studied Kirk’s expression carefully. Even though it held an outward appearance of ease and comfort, something lurked deeper in her eyes, attempting to remain hidden from the rest of the world. Spock was familiar with the fact that humans often hid their true emotions behind humor in stressful or dire situations. However, he recognised that he had never met anyone more adept at doing so than her. 

“Because I am Vulcan, it is difficult for me to understand the complexities of human emotion,” Spock began seriously. “However, as your friend, I will try to offer the support that you require, if you find yourself in experiencing tumultuous emotions. I will not judge you should you need to let down your guard in my presence.” 

Kirk looked up at him seriously, swallowing soundly. She nodded, appearing to accept his words. 

“The reason I came in here is to tell you that Chekov just showed me a particular video of you,” she said, changing the direction of the conversation. 

“Indeed?” Spock asked, already singling out the possibilities of videos that were capable of placing such a sly smile on Kirk’s face. “What occurred in this video?” 

“You were on the variety show, where you asked for a radish to show off your skill of peeling it completely with your teeth,” Kirk managed to say through bouts of chuckling. 

Spock was able to hold back his scowl. Variety shows were almost a necessary procedure in the lives of Terran artists, as they helped them rise to fame in the media. Even though Spock wished to have his work recognised, he did not wish to gain popularity by amusing human reporters and interviewers at their every whim. He wished to be taken as seriously as he considered his work and profession to be. His compliance to peel the radish with his teeth was not one of his fondest memories, or an action of which he was proud. 

“Pavel must not be surprised if he unexpectedly finds several of his most prized novels by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov missing from his room tonight,” Spock commented. 

“Oh my god, a joke, Spock?” Kirk asked in amusement. “Us silly humans are such bad influence on your serious Vulcanness. And anyways, I liked watching it. You were the most handsome back then.” 

Spock was so surprised by the unexpected comment, that he was unable stop his blood from flowing to his face. Kirk continued to stare at him with a grin, and Spock was forced to avert his eyes from her delighted expression. 

“As opposed to now?” he asked eventually, daring to meet Kirk’s eyes once again. 

Kirk shrugged, the smile not fading from her face. “Now you’re a bit… shaggier, and colder,” she said. She placed a hand to the side of her lips and mock-whispered, “It’s cuter when you can see your ears burning from embarrassment.” 

Spock could indeed feel his ears become as heated as his face, but he was not inclined to let Kirk become aware of it. “I do not care for your preferences, James T. Kirk,” he said. “And you were not invited into my quarters to mock my complexion.” 

“No, of course not,” Kirk assured him. “I promise that I’m not laughing at you. I’m just happy that I get to leave with such good memories of all of you.” 

Spock did not understand why he so acutely associated her words with the feeling of distress. 

“I do not understand,” he said. “You have decided to leave StarKid?” 

“You don’t seem too happy about that,” she said absently, moving to sit down on his sleeping mat. “You were the one who wanted to kick me out, remember? And I had to convince you to let me stay until I found my mom. But since I can’t find her, I don’t need to be here anymore. I might as well go back now.” 

Spock knew that Kirk’s words held more logic than the misery that coursed through him upon hearing them. He regretted what he had told Kirk the day she explained her situation to him. He had not known then that he would develop such a spontaneous need of having her by his side. 

“James T. Kirk’s two-week absence will incite suspicion in President Sulu’s eyes,” Spock pointed out. “You are unable to remain until your brother returns to take your place?” 

“I haven’t spoken to Jim at all in the last two weeks, but when Scotty recruited me for this job of playing my brother, the fact that Jim wanted to find my mother is what convinced me to accept,” she confessed. “I had no plans of going along with it at first. The circumstances, though… I ended up going through with it. I don’t know how important being in StarKid will be to Jim now; Scotty has yet to tell him about our mother’s death. I do know that it’s a wonderful opportunity for someone interested in performing arts and becoming a star. Really, I do. But like I said, I’m not going to piggyback on his dream for any longer than I have to. He can come up with some excuse for being gone for two weeks if he still wants to come back.” 

“Your lack of loyalty to your brother is astounding,” Spock said bitterly. 

“Yeah, well,” Kirk sighed. “We haven’t even talked in the past three years. He didn’t even call me after Scotty told him about what was going on with me and StarKid! How do you expect me to muster up an ounce of loyalty for him now? I already told you that I have important shit going on with Starfleet right now. But Jim’s not there to fill in for me, is he?” 

“Very well,” Spock acquiesced. “Now, I would like to continue composing in non-interrupting silence. Is that a reasonable request?” 

“Oh, Spock,” Kirk sighed, shooting Spock a mesmeric grin. “You just want to kick me out of your room, huh? Fine. I’ll get back to having fun at _my_ surprise party. Stop by to hang out later?” 

“I will consider your suggestion,” Spock replied, watching her, as she retreated to the festivities occurring in her honour. 

~ 

Leonard felt a twisted jealousy, as he watched Jim retreat from Spock’s quarters into the living room. It was immediate and distasteful, but Leonard did not know how to stop it from writhing in his chest. It felt like a consuming fire, to watch her choose Spock’s company over his. The jealousy was partially quenched, thankfully, when she joined him in the kitchen to help with the cleanup. 

“How are you doing, Jim?” he asked, trying not to appear wounded. 

“I’m just really grateful that all of you went out of your way to be so kind to me today,” she said seriously. “It really means a lot. Thank you.” 

“I haven’t lost my folks, so there’s no way for me to know the difficulty of your situation,” Leonard confessed, “but you know that I’ll help in any way I can.” 

“Of course I know, Bones,” Jim replied with a dazzling smile. 

“Here, hold out your hands, Jim,” Leonard said solemnly. Jim complied, looking confused. Leonard took her hands gently, holding them for a brief moment, before forcing himself to let go. Taking the stack of plates from the table, he almost dropped them into her hands. She gave out an abrupt chuckle. 

“Jesus, Bones,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re so weird.” 

As she turned away to place the dishes in the washing machine, Leonard watched her hopelessly. 

_I am looking at you, Jim,_ he thought morosely, _but I don’t know who you are reaching out to._

~ 

When Pavel saw that Jim was alone in the kitchen, he immediately went over to help her with loading the washing machine. It was the least he could do to make it up to her for constantly getting angry and always seeing her in a negative light. 

“Hi, Pasha,” Jim greeted him, once Pavel knelt down next to her in front of the washing machine. “You know, you really don’t have to help. I’ve got this.” 

“You do not understand,” Pavel muttered. “I feel compelled to. I have not been treating you well these past two weeks.” 

“What are you talking about?” Jim asked in surprise. “You haven’t done anything that I’ve noticed. I mean, you did constantly berate me about Spock, but I know that you feel protective over him, since he’s kind of like your awesome mentor. I deserved it, anyways.” 

“Ah, well, that is not all,” Pavel amended, forcing himself to continue past his embarrassment. “I have not viewed you in an appropriate manner.” 

“Um, what do you mean?” 

“There were times when I stupidly assuming that your were maybe trying to, um, seduce Spock and Leonard,” Pavel admitted. “I know, I am completely out of my mind, but you have simply grown so close to both of them. I should have found it obvious that you have become close friends. I didn’t know that you were searching for your mother, but they did, and so they comforted you. I’m really, really sorry.” 

Jim stared at him with a look of complete shock and disbelief. Pavel closed his eyes, unable to face him after proving himself to be such an idiot. _Дурак!_ he admonished himself. 

“Pasha, you thought I was some kind of erotic temptr- temptor?” Jim asked. “Are you crazy? Oh god, why am I even asking? You obviously are. And here I was, thinking you might be some kind of genius!” 

“I am!” Pavel exclaimed, hurt. “But more of a musical genius than a social expert.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Jim said joyously. “That isn’t even in question. You’re right: only doing the dishes will make it up to me now.” 

~ 

The next day, Spock admitted to himself that a haircut was necessary. Kirk was right: it was becoming too long for optimal comfort and efficiency. He often needed to brush it aside from his eyes, and the action provided a slight distraction from his tasks. A return to his standard haircut was in order, especially duo to the new music video, in which StarKid would soon participate. 

Spock was not pleased to see T'Pring being treated in the same salon. While he stood in place, once again questioning the existence of 'good' and 'bad' luck, T'Pring looked up from her PADD and immediately noticed him. 

"Have you taken to observing me from a distance, Spock?" TPring asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"Indeed not, T'Pring, as your illogic leaves little to be observed," Spock responded. 

"Who was the reporter speaking of yesterday?" she asked, ignoring his retort and observing something on her PADD. "We are both aware that it was not me with whom you had run, quite frantically, down the hallway of the performance hall." 

Spock approached her, brusquely extracting the PADD from her hold. She had been viewing a captured image of Kirk and Spock turning a corner at the end of an isle. As the reporter had been running as well, the image was blurred. Even though it was enough to raise questions, it was not concrete evidence for creating conclusions about a plausible relationship between Spock as T'Pring. He could only be thankful. 

"Your heights and body figures differ from one another," Spock pointed out, handing back her PADD. "Do not concern yourself about being mistaken as my bondmate or partner. Even the flawed conclusions of enthusiastic human reporters will not be able to lead to such nonsense." 

Spock was relieved to soon be left alone and receive his haircut without further interruption. 

~ 

A dance rehearsal took place that day. Even though Leonard had not discussed it with Jim, he was worried that the news about her mother would make StarKid a meaningless endeavour for her. Jim did not seem to suspect that Leonard knew anything about her true identity. Even though she was adjusting quite well to her life with the three of them, she didn't seem completely comfortable being a member of StarKid. Leonard didn't doubt that she was pretending to be James T. Kirk for a reason. Thankfully, she hadn't quit StarKid yet, if she was going to at all. Jim was still here, struggling at learning completely new dances with the rest of them. 

They had stopped rehearsing to take a break, while some of the female extras kept practising. One of them was undoubtedly a model, whose bony legs practically extended towards the ceiling. Leonard looked around, realising that with the exception of Spock, the rest of the male extras who had taken a break with them were just as captivated by her lithe body. 

"Wow," Jim breathed eventually. "Those shoes, though. I would fall over after two seconds." 

The model was indeed wearing about nine centimetre heels while jumping around exhilaratingly, and she didn't even stumble. Unlike the rest of them, Jim had taken more of an interest in the girl's scary dancing technique than in her long legs. 

Leonard looked at her in alarm, noticing that some of the guys were looking at her with similar expressions. Leonard felt indignant on the part of queer individuals. Jim might have been a guy, and there would be nothing wrong with him for admiring a pair of shoes. But it would still be surprising, since Jim always wore typically masculine clothing. 

Jim made an 'oh' in surprise, turning away before most of the guys could catch it. It was like she just realised her mistake, and Leonard almost smirked at her thunderstruck expression. 

"I would topple over at any minute, obviously," Jim continued. "You gotta admire people who can keep their balance on those, much less dance hip-hop. But her legs, man. I'm sure they could do wonders." 

Leonard couldn't help it: he burst out laughing. Jim looked him in wary surprise, but the former only shook his head and waved a hand at him. He hadn't been sure whether Jim was interested in girls, too, but the clear bullshit he just spun around all of them made it relatively obvious that he was overcompensating for his original comment, not actually expressing his preference for long, sexy legs. 

It was obvious from their conversation that Jim didn't like wearing heels, and probably didn't care much about the stylishness of any type of shoes. Leonard wondered what she _did_ like. He put to mind to find out. 

~ 

After the dance rehearsal, Spock had a scheduled meeting dinner with President Sulu and another, unknown individual. He had promised a potential contract between him and the other singer, who had apparently expressed interest in working with Spock. Despite Spock's pressing to find out their identity, Sulu refused to discuss anything before the meeting. He had assured Spock that knowing him, he would not be convinced to attend, if Spock found a reason for a possible decline. Spock reluctantly accepted, knowing that nothing was yet permanent. 

Upon entering the diner, he recognised his mistake of not pressing to learn at least the name. 

His mother sat at the table with a collected smile, and her eyes softened around the edges as they took in Spock. He, however, did not trust that smile. 

Sulu stood from the table, approaching Spock. He was about to shake his hand, when he appeared to remember Vulcan physiology, and immediately offered the _ta'al_ instead. Though reluctantly, he returned it. Despite his inevitable decline to her offer, he did not wish to 'cause a scene' more than he already would. 

"This is Lady Amanda Grayson, Spock," Sulu said, leading him to the table. "She told me that you know each other personally?" 

"We are acquainted, yes," Spock responded, glaring foully in her direction and sitting down at the table next to Sulu. 

“As you know, my career has come to a standstill,” his mother began. “With the help of President Sulu, a collaboration with an artist as successful as yourself, Mister Spock, would allow my name to be recognisable once again.” 

“Spock is truly the best choice, Lady Grayson,” Sulu said respectfully. “He’s already known throughout the Federation, and he is only twenty three Terran years. He undoubtedly inherited his talent from his father, Sarek of Vulcan, the renown genius conductor of the ShiKahr Philharmonic Orchestra. I even had the pleasure of meeting him after one of their performances on Earth.” 

“My father seems to be the only carrier of the genes for musical inclination in my family line,” Spock put in, continuing to look chillingly at his mother. 

“It has always been difficult for me to work with geniuses,” she replied, her tone detached. “They are known to be dissatisfied with my every single decision and to be too sensitive for my liking. However, I hope that a collaboration with Mister Spock will be a new and successful experience.” 

“I have not and will not accept your offer, under any circumstance,” Spock said cooly. 

Sulu rounded on Spock with a shocked and displeased expression of disappointment. “Don’t mind him, Lady Grayson. We’ll think about your offer, undoubtedly.” 

“I understand completely,” Spock’s mother assured him. “Let’s eat for now. I ordered the very best, and it’s vegetarian. I assure you that I am aware of Vulcan preference, Mister Spock.” 

The waiter placed a plate of a rich assortment of vegetables and beans in front of Spock, and he had to admit the deluxe appearance of the meal before him. His mother appeared to be proud at remembering that the Vulcan diet was vegetarian. However, Spock recognised the fact that Amanda had lived with a Vulcan husband for a decade before returning to Earth. It would practically be impossible to forget. 

Spock pressed a fork-full to his lips, absorbing the taste. However, he was immediately repelled: lemongrass lingered amongst the salad leaves. 

“Oh no,” President Sulu muttered, searching among his own salad for a possible cause of Spock’s allergic reaction, while Spock catagorised his symptoms: watering of the eyes, tightening of the airway, swelling of the skin on his face. “Does this have lemongrass? He’s allergic to lemongrass, amongst other things.” 

“He is?” Amanda asked softly. 

“It’s not your fault, Lady Grayson. There is no way that you could have known,” Sulu assured her, even though it was an erroneous assumption. Spock did not listen to the rest of their conversation, however, as he rushed to the restroom to rid himself of the food and place his body and its reaction under control. 

A memory surfaced: 

_To Spock’s fervent, shocking happiness, his mother finds the opportunity to dine with him. It has been two point eight three weeks since he last shared a meal with her. He looks forward to discussing his progress at mastering his newly assigned piano piece. He assumes that a conversation concerning music will hold Lady Grayson’s attention._

_His mother orders vegetarian, and Spock is jubilant that she has not forgotten Vulcan dietary needs. However, he notices with dismay that it holds lemongrass. He is allergic to lemongrass. It is true that his mother was not present for his test for allergies at a local hospital. However, Spock informed her afterward that the consequences of his mixed genetic heritage made it impossible for his organism to process the Terran foods of seaweed, soy, and lemongrass._

_“Why aren’t you eating, Spock?” his mother asked admonishingly. “I even ordered vegetarian, specifically for you.”_

_Spock is only eight point eight three years old, and after his mother’s harsh words, he has difficulty deciding what the best course of action is. He does not want Amanda to assume that he is ungrateful for the meal she has ordered for him or for the precious time that they have together. However, informing her of his allergy now will most likely upset her, making her think that she is an unsatisfactory parent, who has just placed her child in a hazardous situation. Even though that is the truth, Spock does not want his mother to retreat further into her work. He will do anything to make her feel proud of him._

_He raises a fork-full of salad to his lips tentatively. He is aware of the severe consequences of consuming lemongrass, but he forces himself to swallow._

_The reaction immediately takes place. His airway becomes compromised, and heat floods Spock’s face. He begins coughing uncontrollably, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult. Even though his mother appears worried, she does not rush to his side to help._

_“If you are allergic, why didn’t you say so?” she chastises him. “Go to the bathroom quickly and cleanup. I don’t want you to cause a scene here.”_

Much like in his childhood memory, Spock cooled his face with icy tap water from the bathroom sink, repeatedly telling himself that he should have checked with the waiter, before trusting his mother’s intimate knowledge of his person, or lack thereof. 

~ 

Bones had invited Jen to lunch today, and she had happily agreed. It was a bit weird, though, when he pulled her into a fancy restaurant instead of some steakhouse, which she thought he would have preferred. 

“What are we doing here, exactly?” she asked after a few minutes of watching Bones look extremely uncomfortable. “Don’t tell me that this is your preferred place at eating with your pals.” 

“My pals,” Bones smirked. “As if I have any, besides you, Spock, and Chekov. You, Jimmy, are here to be my wingman.” 

“Oh, I get you,” Jen responded, a grin slowly spreading on her face. “You’re here to meet a girl, aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

“I didn’t think you’d want to come, in that case,” Bones responded gruffly. “You would have probably called me a coward and made me go alone.” 

“True that,” Jen said, nodding. “But still, I’d probably go. If a man needs to get laid, he needs to get laid.” 

Bones started choking on his water, and Jen wanted to congratulate herself. When did she learn to talk like a slightly promiscuous Academy freshman? She didn’t even know. 

“It’s not about getting laid,” he muttered. “I’m trying to confess my feelings, but I have no idea how, and if it will work at all. I need you to be here, in case it doesn’t.” 

“Who’s the girl?” Jen asked curiously. Bones looked really nervous; she seemed to mean a lot to him. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he responded. 

After a few moments, Jen abruptly noticed the large shopping bag at Bones’ side. “Is that a present for her?” she asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Bones answered awkwardly. “I lied to her about something important, and I hope that this gift will help me gain her forgiveness - and her heart.” 

“That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve said yet, Bones,” Jen pointed out. “But I think that as long as you stay away from metaphors, you’ll be fine.” 

“What a comforting thought,” Bones shot back sarcastically. Jen, who had been in the midst of finishing her second glass of water, couldn’t help but laugh hard enough to that she suddenly needed to go to the bathroom. 

“I gotta go take a leak, like, right now,” she said apologetically, climbing out from behind the table. “Don’t panic if she shows up before I get back!” 

She entered the men’s restroom, still chuckling to herself over Bones’ nervousness. However, her laughter died on the spot when she suddenly noticed Spock. 

He was leaning over a sink, gripping the counter hard enough for his knuckles to have become completely white. On his face was an unfamiliar expression of an unbearable torment, which pierced Jen’s heart with the force of a phaser set to higher than stun. Whether he was suffering from physical or emotional distress, she didn’t know, but she ran towards him immediately. 

“Spock?” she asked softly, trying and failing miserably to keep the panic from her voice. 

He brushed her hands aside, muttering an ‘I am satisfactory’ and sweeping out of the restroom at a brisk pace. She followed him, unconvinced. 

As they exited the restaurant, Bones rang her on her communicator. Jen cringed in guilt. 

“Bones?” she asked. 

_“Where are you?”_ he asked impatiently. _“You certainly aren’t in the restroom. Did you just use the bathroom excuse to bail on me?”_

“No!” Jen exclaimed indignantly. “Of course not. I met Spock in the bathroom, and he didn’t look very good. I think I’ll be with him for awhile, just in case. You can meet the girl without me, can’t you?” 

_“I would have preferred your support,”_ Bones grumbled, sound so upset that she mentally kicked herself at being such a terrible friend. 

“Just remember: you’re a real Southern gentleman, who can get any lady with those nice manners!” she said in a rush. “You can do this! Best of luck! Bye!” 

She hung up quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. She couldn’t handle hearing Bones’ betrayed voice, but she didn’t think she could go back. Something serious was obviously going on with Spock. 

“I do not require your help, Jennifer T. Kirk,” Spock told her, raising an eyebrow. To give him credit, his breathing was more under control, but Jen raised an eyebrow back at him, anyways. “I was merely experiencing difficulties in breathing. The reaction was not a life-threatening one.” 

“Oh, dear,” Jen mumbled. “Did you eat something with seaweed, soy, or lemongrass? Or maybe something Vulcan?” 

Spock looked at her with a renewed pain in his eyes expressive eyes. “If you are able to remember the causes of my allergic reactions, why cannot my mother?” 

Spock didn’t seem open to an emotionally heavy conversation at the moment - or ever -, so Jen didn’t press him about why he was at the restaurant, or about his mother. However, she couldn’t help but feel completely mortified. To have your own mom forget something so vital… Even though she didn’t have many happy memories with her father, she was thankful that she didn’t have any particular horrendous ones with her parents, either. 

“You do not need to stay with me,” Spock repeated. “I am sure that Leonard would have appreciated your company more than I currently do.” 

“Wow, that hurts,” Jen asked, nevertheless looking back in the direction of the restaurant. They had already walked quite a few blocks away, with Spock charging like a bull and Jen rushing to keep up. The restaurant was now nowhere in sight. It was easy to get lost in the unfamiliar streets of New York, and Jen didn’t want to go back now, only to get more lost. 

“Nah,” she sighed. “I’ll just annoy you, instead. It’ll be easier if we go back to the agency, since we’re actually familiar with how to get there. Here - Bones even gave me some disguises.” 

She pulled two pairs of sunglasses out of her jacket pocket, handing one of them to Spock. He put them on, looking reluctant, and Jen had to admit that he looked completely ridiculous. Even though Vulcan was a sunny planet like no other, Jen just couldn’t associate Vulcans in solemn grey robes with aviator shades. She herself pulled her hood over her head and put her own glasses on, preparing to look just as ridiculous. 

“I do not believe that this accessory helps me become unrecognisable,” Spock commented, but didn’t remove the glasses. 

“They probably don’t, but it’s better than nothing,” Jen responded. “Pull that hood over your head, and you’ll look like a stylish monk, too.” 

After about fifteen minutes of walking around, though, Jen had to rethink her statement about the agency being easy to find. She was almost positive that it should have been at most a ten minute walk. She could swear that they had passed by that same thrift shop several times, too. 

“If you tell me that one of the talents that Vulcans have is an innate sense of direction, I’ll laugh, because I think we’re going in circles,” Jen said, stopping Spock after they started what must have been their third loop around the block. 

“I apologise for being unfamiliar with the area,” he responded indignantly. “However, I assure you that I will be successful in selecting the correct course to the agency.” 

“It’ll be easier to catch a cab,” Jen pointed out. 

“Though that may be true, I rest assured that I _will_ succeed,” Spock said stubbornly. “Someone once told me, that if one searches for something earnestly, he or she will find it.” 

Even as Spock walked away, Jen stood in her tracks, staring at him in amazement. 

~ 

T’Pring’s stylist had informed the former that an outfit had been borrowed from her rented apparel, and that it would be returned to her dressing van today. However, T’Pring was surprised to see that it was Nyota Uhura, StarKid’s well-known stylist, who was returning the clothing to her. As Uhura passed the carefully bagged dress to T’Pring’s stylist, the Vulcan noticed the similarities between it and her own attire that evening. Since the reporter had mistaken an individual with whom Spock was acquainted for T’Pring, it was logical to assume that this supposedly borrowed dress was somehow involved. The fact that Uhura was here to return it instead of Spock led T’Pring to believe that StarKid’s stylist was aware of the situation. 

T’Pring intended to become aware, as well. 

“I trust that they left the building safely last night?” she asked Uhura, forging her expressionlessness into feigned concern. “Spock told me about the situation earlier today when I last spoke with him, but he was reluctant to discuss if anything had gone amiss. I know it is because he simply does not wish to worry me.” 

“Spock told you?” Uhura asked in surprise. “God, are you two really dating? I know I should know better than to believe the magazines, working in this industry myself, but it makes sense. You’re both among the few Vulcans here on Earth.” 

“Even though the romantic relationship between us is one we wish to keep as private as possible, you are correct,” T’Pring responded, thinking through her strategy quickly. “We were bonded on Vulcan as children, before he left Vulcan to be raised on Earth. I have come to your planet both for professional purposes and to consummate my bond with Spock. There are no secrets between us.” 

“Oh my god,” Uhura breathed, averting her eyes at a point in the distance in shock. “You were bonded, and he never told me? I mean, we dated briefly for a time. Christ, I’m gonna kill him for this!” 

“Please, do not concern yourself over the matter of Vulcan childhood betrothals,” T’Pring soothed her. “They are nothing more than a mutual agreement that can easily be broken. Until recently, Spock and I had plans to break the bond, believing it was no longer necessary to us. Undoubtedly, he was involved romantically with you during the time of our waning bond.” 

“I know Spock is private, but I didn’t know that it was to that extent,” Uhura confessed. “I guess it’s good that he has someone to share his burdens with. But I need to believe that you won’t betray his trust.” 

“I have no intention of doing so,” T’Pring responded serenely. 

“You don’t even know what I’ll do, if you spill a single word about Kirk being a girl,” Uhura said seriously, causing T’Pring to blink twice in surprise. “He gave his word to let her stay for now, so you need to, too.” 

“Of course,” T’Pring responded smoothly, nevertheless categorising the information as potentially important in her mind. This was, undoubtedly, the grave secret around which the situation with Spock and the mysterious female revolved. It was James T. Kirk in feminine attire, concealing herself from the public eye for reasons unknown. 

Such information was not simply potentially important: it was vital. 

~ 

Eventually, Spock led Jen onto the correct street, where she could clearly see Star Agency offices, standing like a tall pillar of safety amongst the busy streets. She turned to Spock excitedly, just as he turned to her. Then, something overwhelming happened. 

Spock smiled. It wasn’t merely a raised eyebrow and a slight twitch of the lips, but a full-fledged, genuine smile. Jen was certain that it wasn’t a trick of the light. She could barely catch of breath at the sight, which was nothing short of mesmerising. Her stomach seemed to float upwards, and her the speed of her heartbeat climbed higher and higher. Why was this happening? 

“I can’t believe you’re actually feel pleased enough with yourself to grin at me,” Jen muttered, making sure to brush her shoulder past Spock’s as moved she past him. 

Even though his smile disappeared, the contentment in his eyes did not. Jen couldn’t help but glance at him every couple of seconds: this was the happiest she had seen him yet, and it did wonders to the insides of her chest and stomach. 

“Miss Jennifer T. Kirk,” said Spock patronisingly, “you are staring.” 

“Oh, am I?” she retorted. “I was just observing your haircut. You know, the one you got after I commented on liking your adorable bowl cut trim?” 

“If you are suggesting that your words had altered my already existing plans of receiving a haircut-” began, his face and the tips of his now visible ears flushing green. 

“I _am_ suggesting that,” Jen cut in. 

“-then your are incorrect,” Spock finished, completely ignoring her. “It is my preference, and a necessity for the upcoming filming of the music video.” 

“I thought Vulcans didn’t have preferences?” Jen said, poking fun at him. 

“It is illogical to have preferences, and yet I have them,” Spock admitted. “My preference for Miss Jennifer T. Kirk when she is walking beside me is for her to remain silent and refrain from laughing at my expense.” 

“Alright, alright, I get it,” she said, raising her hands in defeat. “You’re too embarrassed to continue this conversation.” 

They soon returned to their suite, which was easy enough to get to by foot from the agency. Spock quickly retreated to his room, leaving Jen alone with the slightly depressed-looking Bones and jittery Chekov, who were sitting on the sofa without a word. 

“Hey, Pasha,” she said with a sigh, plopping down next to him. “What’s up? You seem more than a bit down.” 

She was barely able to get comfortable, though, before he jumped to his feet without warning. He mumbled some kind of excuse about needing to finish something somewhere, and quickly left upstairs. She shrugged, not concerning himself over his weird behaviour. Maybe it was a teenager thing. 

“How’d the date go, Bones?” she asked, dreading the obvious answer. Bones didn’t look like the kind of guy who just had a stroke of luck. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“She stood me up,” he responded tersely, also moving to get off of the couch. “I should have known.” 

Jen could feel guilt flood her once again, as if it were somehow her fault that the girl hadn’t come. Something about Bones’ distance made it feel like it actually was. Jen decided to let it go. 

Even though today had been a better day than yesterday, Jen knew that she had to leave StarKid eventually. She meant everything she said to Spock last night: Starfleet, space, and the _Enterprise_ awaited her. Still, it was ruthless that it had to be just as she was getting closer to Spock. It almost broke her to see him reluctantly agree that she was better off leaving. 

Just as she was about to go to her room to pack, however, a knock sounded on the door. It was Frank, who had once again been led in by unnervingly expressionless, looming bodyguards. They were followed by a nervous Scotty and a solemn Sulu. 

Jen sighed, signaling to them that it was okay for him to stay. She wasn’t happy with him for leaving her in the orphanage, obviously, but that was so long ago. After he had taken the time to talk to her about his mom, the fight had gone out of her. And he might be somewhat of a pathetic alcoholic, but he had once been family to her father. 

“Did you need something?” she asked him. 

“I’m sorry to ask of this, Jim,” he began, actually appearing slightly guilty. Jen was glad that she was kicking some conscience into him. “I wasn’t planning to stay in New York for long, but it so happens that I’m here right now, without enough money to afford a hotel room. Can I stay here with you?” 

Jen stared at him in disbelief. Even though Frank looked slightly more groomed and presentable than he had last night, she still didn’t want to share the same living space with him. She couldn’t use the excuse that she was leaving soon, though, since Bones and Chekov didn’t know. Jen could probably just flat out refuse, but she couldn’t find the will to do even that. What had happened to her iron resolve? 

“Fine,” she agreed eventually. “Stay here if you want, but I’ll kick you out in less than two seconds, if you do so much as breathe the wrong way on anyone of us. And there’ll definitely be no alcohol of any kind.” 

“I am not amenable to his stay,” Spock said grimly from behind her. “You do not have to agree to let him stay here, James T. Kirk.” 

“I really couldn’t care less at the moment about him being here,” Jen admitted, “but I don’t want him to die from having no way to survive out here in sinister, rural New York.” 

“Come on, Spock,” Scotty begged in a low voice, quietly enough for only Jen and Spock to hear. “Let Jen stay here with her uncle for just awhile longer. It won’t be that hard for you to keep her in StarKid, will it?” 

Spock glanced at Jen meaningfully, before nodding in agreement. 

“How will the rooming work, then?” Chekov asked suddenly, bringing up a valid point. 

“Well, I was thinking of a sharing a room with Jimmy,” Frank said gruffly, but Scotty waved his hands around wildly, before he could continue. 

“That will definitely not be necessary, Mister Frank Kirk,” Scotty told him, maneuvering around the whole Jen being a girl thing.. “You deserve a room to yourself. Jim has never previously lived with you, so it might not be comfortable for her. 

“Pavel, you can share a room with Jim, can’t you?” Sulu asked. “You’re the closest in age to Jim, if that helps at all. And you’re also the youngest.” 

“I do not think that we should be applying seniority here,” Chekov said quickly, looking completely freaked out. 

“I’d offer, but I think you would be more comfortable with sharing a room with Spock than with me,” Bones said grumpily. Jen rounded at him in surprise: how could he betray her now? 

Spock looked at Bones blankly, appearing to be shaking his thought from the ex-doctor’s absurd statement. 

“I believe that you have forgotten the events that transpired in my room, thanks to the lack of attentiveness of James T. Kirk,” Spock pointed out eventually. “I must also stress the importance of privacy to Vulcans.” 

“Fine,” Sulu said in frustration, throwing up his hands. “I’m sorry that you have such unreliable friends, Jim. Just choose one of them, and I’ll make sure they can deal with it.” 

Jim wasn’t up to rooming with any of them, but there wasn’t really a choice. She was scared to admit it, but pointing to Spock was the least risky option. He wouldn’t accidentally see her boobs and discover a horrible truth. Actually, no, the prospect of Spock seeing her boobs was not a comforting thought in the least. It made her want to back out completely. She needed to get a grip on herself. 

“I am not amenable to your choice,” Spock said immediately. 

“I told you, Spock,” Sulu said, pointing a finger at his nose. “I’ll make you do it.” 

“You are unable to do such a thing,” the Vulcan retorted. 

“Fine, then. Jim will room with _me_ ,” Sulu said abruptly. “We’ll get along just fine at my flat, won’t we, Jim?” 

President Sulu seemed like an uptight yet okay guy, but the prospect of doing push-ups before bed or remembering lifting the toilet seat or something else ridiculous like that to prove her manliness made Jen wheeze in horror. She turned her baby blues on Spock, pleading with him through as much cuteness and innocence as she could muster. After a few moments of intensely gazing into her eyes, probably trying to decipher why they had any power over his decisions, Spock reluctantly nodded. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, she thanked him gratefully. 

“You know that rooming with you is the most logical choice, right?” she asked. “You’re the only one who’ll understand why I’ll want to change in the bathroom, or why I won’t want to engage in any kind of friendly roughhousing.” 

Spock looked her in unconcealed fascination. “Your perception of common activities preferred by males is inaccurate to an astounding degree. However, your logic is sound. Your identity will remain protected.” 

When she returned to her room, Scotty was waiting for her, somehow looking even more concerned than before. 

“Maybe you should take a chill pill, Scotty,” she suggested absently, beginning to pack some of her things up. 

“I know that Spock’s a good lad, Jen, but I think you should still take this,” Scotty said, handing Jen a small electronic device. 

“A taser, Scotty?” Jen asked in disbelief. “Really? I have a black belt in five martial art forms and was a master instructor in two of them, and you’re giving me a taser? I can defend myself. And besides, Spock isn’t interested in sex, much less sex with me.” 

“You might think so, but Vulcans, especially Vulcan males, have needs, too!” Scotty pressed. “My poor old heart will be more at ease, if you have this with you.” 

“What are you, my mother?” Jen grumbled, taking the taser and tucking it into the front pocket of her t-shirt. 

Later that night, she was settling in on the floor with some fluffy blankets next to Spock’s sleeping mat. It was a bit surprising, their closeness. The fact that Spock slept on almost ground level brought him a little too close for Jen’s comfort. She was about to scoot a little distance away, but Spock emerged from the restroom in his sleepwear. It scared Jen that it was quite difficult for her to look away from his lithe body. His slender arms, revealed by his black t-shirt, rippled with muscle and exquisite, brown veins of deoxygenated copper-based blood; the shirt itself did nothing to hide his slim yet toned waist. The black track pants he wore outline the shape of his quads. The darkness of his clothing matched the contours of his features. She tried to stop her trembling as he walked towards her. 

“You are have not settled your sleeping bag in the correct location,” Spock told her. 

“What, are you offering my the mat, then, like a chivalrous prince from Vulcan fairytales?” Jen smirked. 

“Do not be ridiculous,” Spock snapped. “Your proximity to my sleeping arrangement is unsatisfactory. Relocate yourself to the lower level of my quarters.” 

Like Jen’s room, Spock’s was vast, with two levels separated by two stair steps. While her sleeping bag had taken up most of the lower floor, his sleeping mat took up barely any space on the upper one, making it seem largely spacey and empty. 

“I was just about to move away from you, anyways,” Jen retorted, dragging her blankets with her to the opposite side of the room. “Computer, lights off.” 

Nothing happened, however. She cursed, remembering that the computer in Spock’s room acted only upon the commands given by Spock’s voice. 

“Spock, turn the lights off,” she groaned, stuffing her face in her pillow. 

“I will not,” Spock replied. 

“Why not?” Jen asked in frustration. “Being afraid of the dark is illogical, for god’s sake.” 

“I am aware of this,” Spock said through gritted teeth. “However, I suffer from nyctalopia, or ‘night blindness,’ due to the same genetical reasons that are responsible for my allergies. I am unable to adapt easily to the dark, and experiencing blindness at any moment is most unsettling.” 

“Oh,” she managed to say, continuing to lie stupidly with her fac into her pillow. 

“You might argue that it is as illogical to fear blindness as it is to fear simple darkness,” Spock continued. “However, you have most likely never experienced the former, which leads me to have faith that your humanity will allow you to sympathise with me and allow me to leave the lights on. Computer, lights to forty percent.” 

Spock did not offer her a goodnight. 

Even with the lights dimmed, Jen still couldn’t relax with her eyes closed, so she skimmed through the Academy course material on her PADD for the next couple of hours. When she was certain that Spock was asleep, she tip-toed to the screen by Spock’s bedside, needing to reprogram the computer to recognise her voice. Jen needed to fall asleep herself eventually, and she hoped Spock wouldn’t mind her turning off the lights after he was submerged in a deeper slumber. 

As she leaned over Spock to reach the computer screen, she paused, feeling compelled to observe his sleeping form. The serenity on his face was starkly different from the emotionless mask he wore on a daily basis. While that was a feigned calm, the tranquility brought with sleep soothed the slight crinkle between his uplifted eyebrow and erased the almost unnoticeable frown. After what Spock experienced today, it was relieving to see him in a genuine state of peace. 

It was surprising to bear witness to the many sides of Spock in one day. Even though he was Vulcan, the emotions he experienced seemed to shimmer just under the surface of his skin. Jen could still remember his brilliant smile, which sent her heart racing all over again. She needed to get it to cut it out somehow, because it could only mean one thing. And it was definitely not a very good thing, considering her current circumstances. 

Jen pressed her hand to her heart, feeling it pulse blood through her veins at a mile a minute. However, her fingers closed around the sharp edges of the taser in her t-shirt pocket, which she had forgot to remove. The abrupt, throbbing pain of a shock submerged her, pushing her into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Боже мой _means "Oh my god" in Russian, while _дурак_ means "idiot."__
> 
> __I am in desperate need of a beta! Please comment, if you are willing to help me beta the rest of the fanfiction and can dedicate time to doing it whenever I finish a chapter (which is not that often)._ _


	6. Chapter 6

Scotty knew that Spock slept about four hours every night, or sometimes eight hours every other night, when he was too busy to go to sleep for an entire day. However, that still led him to wake up at about oh six hundred in the morning. So when it was oh eight hundred, and both Spock nor Jen had yet to come out of his room, Scotty began to worry. 

As StarKid’s manager, he used his override code to have the computer open the door to Spock’s room. To his horror, he saw Jen, sprawled on top of Spock’s chest in Spock’s bed, with both of them sleeping soundly. 

It was a difficult sight to comprehend, and one he wouldn’t mess with in normal circumstances. But he had to admit that the circumstances were far from normal: Spock and Jen weren’t romantically interested in one another, and Spock didn’t even sleep with his romantic interests. 

Scotty knew, because Nyota had complained to him that they hadn’t had sex before they broke up. It still seemed possible to Scotty that Spock was asexual. The perfect romantic image before him just didn’t coincide with _anything_ he knew about either of them. 

He tiptoed over to the bed, immediately spotting the taser, which lied near Spock’s head. Seeing it, Scotty couldn’t help his crazy imagination from acting up. What could have happened? Did Spock suggest logical sex for mutual gratification, which made Jen freak out? But that didn’t make sense, since she wouldn’t be here. Could she have fainted in terror, falling on top of him? 

No, that was impossible. Jen was one of the bravest people Scotty knew. She _had_ been trained at the Starfleet Academy. She would punch him in the nose, if she suspected him of assuming that she had swooned and fell on top of Spock. 

Had she been the one to seduce him? Scotty didn’t know what was going through that crazy girl’s mind most of the time, just like he had never known what her brother was thinking. What if she had shocked him to keep him from running away, and then shocked herself by accident? 

That was simply ridiculous. But if they neither seduced one another nor used the taser, on purpose or on accident… Could they have really? 

Did they really fall asleep like that together? Did they have… _sex_? 

Slowly, Scotty retreated from the room, before either of them woke up and berated him about the need for privacy. God, he knew he was living in a crazy house. He didn’t feel up to bluntly asking them about their relationship, but he would watch out for from now on, to see if something was really going on between them. 

~ 

Jen woke up groggily, tensing when she realised that she was lying on the floor next to Spock’s bed. 

It wasn’t cold in his room, not at all, or uncomfortable, since the floor of his quarters were decorated in thick red rugs. But a sudden movement was what woke her: her back felt slightly sore. She didn’t remember anything past looking at Spock’s sleeping face, so she must have somehow passed out and fallen on the floor. Suddenly, she noticed the taser lying on Spock’s pillow. Did she taze herself accidentally? She did feel slightly unstable, and the tips of her fingers still simmered with an uncomfortable energy. 

Jen didn’t have time to think over it, though, since there was a buzz into the room. 

“Jim, open up!” came Frank’s voice. “I cooked breakfast.” 

“Computer, open door,” she commanded sleepily. Thankfully, she had had the time to actually reprogramme the computer in Spock’s room before passing out. She did deserve a share of command in his quarters, since she was temporarily rooming with him. Oh, if only this were a starship, and she were the first officer. She would have had a simple override code in a situation like this. 

Frank entered the room, looking fresher than he had in a while. 

“No one wants your boiled chicken or eggs or whatever you want to cook,” Jen managed to say through a yawn. 

“You know, you don’t actually know me that well, Jim,” Frank pointed out. “You should treat me with a little more respect than you are right now. Can’t you see that I’m trying to fix my mistakes?” 

_I don’t know whether dropping us off at the orphanage was so much a mistake as a blessing,_ Jen thought, but didn’t say it outloud. Frank was right: he hadn’t committed any personal crimes against her besides not loving her enough. He didn’t want to be a parent, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be like an acquaintance. 

“Wake your Vulcan up, too,” Frank told her. “It’s a vegetarian meal, without any seaweed, lemongrass, or soy. President Sulu stressed the importance of that.” 

Spock seemed to be sleeping, even though Jen suspected that the undue conversation in the room was going to wake him up. He had told Jen that he preferred going to bed and waking up early, but that wasn’t the case today. He fell asleep at around twenty two hundred last night, and now it was eight hundred ten. He must have opted to skip sleeping the past few nights, and he deserved his rest. Besides, she didn’t want him to be angry at her for so much as breathing the wrong way. 

She had moved to leave the room, when Frank suddenly approached Spock’s sleeping form and smacked him hard on his chest. Spock sat up swiftly, blinking sleep out of his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jen growled, trying to push Frank out of the room, before Spock put two and two together and declared war against Jim’s uncle. 

“Come down for breakfast, Spock!” Frank called as he left the room. 

Spock turned to Jen with an accusatory glare, as if it were _her_ fault that Spock’s privacy and pride was violated. 

“I’ll talk to him about that,” Jen muttered. “I didn’t know that he doesn’t understand the concept of personal space.” 

“That will not be necessary,” Spock replied, getting up and throwing a morning robe around his shoulders. “I will do so myself.” 

When they came down to breakfast, Spock immediately went over to stand by Frank, who was bustling around in the kitchen. 

“You might be unaware, Mister Kirk, that Vulcans require complete privacy in their personal lives,” Spock began. “For my kind, physical contact is unwanted and unacceptable in relationships akin to the one we have. Vulcans are touch telepaths and are uncomfortable with such physical contact that-” 

Frank cut him off with a friendly slap to his cheek. “Don’t worry about being able to read my thoughts, Spock,” he said happily. “Honestly and full disclosure is what I prefer, anyways.” 

Jen gaped, unsure of what to do. Rescue Spock, who seemed stranded in a sea of embarrassment and rage? Or give Frank a Talk. Or maybe just a fist to the face? 

Without a word, Spock turned, slowly making his way to the breakfast table, where Bones, Chekov, and Scotty were already waiting, patiently and silently. Thankfully, nobody commented. If they had, Spock would probably lose the last pieces of his shattered dignity. 

Jen would definitely talk to Frank about this later, if Spock wasn’t going to say more. 

After breakfast, Jen made sure to take Scotty aside and give him a piece of her mind about the taser. She explained what happened to her last night, or what she guessed had happened, saying that it obviously did more harm than good. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Scotty murmured. Jen looked at him in confusion. 

“Thank goodness that I accidentally shocked myself?” she asked. “Was that your sadistic plan all along?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted, nevertheless not answering Jen’s question. “Are you still feeling a little tingly?” 

“Thankfully, no, but I’m still feeling kind of weak,” she confessed. 

“Just drink a lot of water,” Scotty told her. “If there’s no widespread body pain, you’ll be fine. The taser wasn’t meant to kill, you know.” 

Are you sure you specialise in these things, Scotty?” Jen asked with a smile. “But I think I’ll trust your words for now.” 

On her way into the living room, she met Bones, who looked a lot less grumpy than yesterday. Whether it was because he had forgiven Jen for ditching him, or because he got over that girl, she didn’t know, but she was happy to see his perpetual frown lessen a little. 

“How’d your first night with Spock go?” he asked insinuatingly, and she punched him lightly in the shoulder. 

“I ended up passing out,” she said, but didn’t get into detail about how that happened. She didn’t want to explain the fact that Scotty had given her a taser, just in case Spock - _Spock_ , of all people - tried any funny business. It was too embarrassing to even talk about. 

“So I take it that you slept well?” Bones asked, taking her figure of speech to mean that she had just been really tired. Jen rolled with it. 

“I made some stupid mistakes in his room, as usual,” she said honestly, “but Spock didn’t even notice. I’m getting better at concealing my clumsiness, apparently.” 

“Well, that’s good,” he commented, a mocking sort of smile slowly blossoming on his face. 

“Are you still feeling bummed about that girl?” Jen had to ask. 

“Well,” Bones began with a sigh, averting his eyes, “I was sad about her for a while, since it seemed like there was some other guy in her life. But I think it was a misunderstanding on my part. She’s really comfortable around him, but they’re just close friends. I think I still have a shot, don’t you?” 

“Definitely,” she assured him, patting his shoulder. “What girl wouldn’t want a handsome, mature, intelligent, talented man like you? You have the cat in the bag, Bones.” 

“You really think so, Jim?” he asked suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“‘Course!” Jen responded, quite honestly, too. While her feelings for him were only platonic, he _was_ quickly becoming a close friend. She’d be happy to see him with someone, especially since his divorce had left him without a partner and without a family for a long time. It wouldn’t be surprising for a girl to fall head over heels for him. 

“You promise?” he asked. “Because if she ends up rejecting me, I’ll blame it on you, Jim.” 

“I promise,” she assured him. “But if I’m wrong, go ahead and blame me. I won’t mind.” 

Bones only chuckled and ruffled her hair affectionately. 

Jen walked to the kitchen to get that glass of water that Scotty recommended, but her path was intercepted by none other than Spock, whose freshly returned eyebrow furrow made him seem even more grumpy than Bones on a bad day. 

“I see that you are becoming closely acquainted with the ex-doctor,” Spock commented, almost conversationally. “I assume that he would have be more willing to room with you, as you share a friendship and a human disregard of privacy.” 

“Hey!” Jen said, pointing a finger at him. “Humans can be private all they want, too. And besides, Bones is still a man.” 

“And I am not?” Spock asked, bristling a bit. “You, _James_ T. Kirk, are a male, as well, according to Leonard. Would it not have been potentially more assuring to spend the night with a heterosexual male, who believes you to be male as well?” 

“Are you implying that-” 

“I am not,” Spock responded. “I have no interest in such proclivities. However, I was under the impression that humans often concern themselves with the fear of sexual harassment, even if there is no risk of it forthcoming.” 

“Those are your words, not mine!” Jen exclaimed. “I’m pretty sure you’re too good of a guy for that, Spock, so I know that you’re just taunting me. I’m one hundred percent sure that you’re just jealous that I’m friends with Bones.” 

“That would be illogical, as we have already defined our relationship as a friendship, as well,” Spock pointed out. Jen blushed immediately. 

“Yeah, Spock,” she said softly. “Don’t worry: we’re friends, too.” 

~ 

T’Pring knew that President Sulu would not turn down her invitation to StarKid to see her upcoming performance. It would be her on solo harp with piano accompaniment, as well as her opera. President Sulu had expressed his interest in good relations between T’Pring and StarKid before, and she would be able to take advantage of that. A growing closeness with the rock band would give her proximity to Kirk and Spock, whose fascinating new development needed to be observed. 

Gifting President Sulu with seven free VIP tickets was not the primary goal of her presence at Star Agency today, however. She had arrived today to see Spock, who, according to Stylist Uhura, was currently composing in the piano studio room of the building. 

“Spock really is so talented,” Uhura said with a sigh of admiration, standing next to T’Pring and watching him play and sing through the window of the practice room. “He has a keyboard in his room, and there’s also a piano room in their flat, with has a grand piano. God, he takes his work more seriously than any other performing artists I know.” 

“I can only agree,” T’Pring responded, approaching the door into the practice room. It was not automatic or suited to voice recognition, but it was nevertheless locked from the inside. She knocked on the door loud enough for Spock to hear over the music, but he did not grant her with his attention. 

Pursuing her lips slightly, T’Pring removed a notepad from the pocket of the robe she was wearing, and wrote a message to Spock in Vulcan. _I request that you open the door and give us the time to converse,_ it read, and she pressed it against the window for Spock to see. While he looked up for a brief moment, his fingers did not stop flowing over the keys. 

_I demand that you speak to me about the identity of the mysterious female,_ she wrote, placing the note against the window with a more force than strictly necessary. T’Pring closed her eyes and took a deep breath, immediately stilling the rousing emotions within her. 

This time, Spock wrote a response and approached the window from the inside of the practice room. _Your persistent intrusion upon my personal life is rude and illogical, as I will never grant you a response,_ his note read. _Please remove your person from the Star Agency. I assure you that your presence is not appreciated._

T’Pring did not respond, instead turning away and leaving as calmly and collectedly as possible past the baffled Uhura. Spock, as emotional and hypocritical as he was, surely did not deserve her offered attention. His stubbornness was not Vulcanlike, and it would undoubtedly refuse her answers. However, a simple touch to Kirk’s skin would provide her with the answers she sought. 

According to President Sulu, James T. Kirk was taking part in a rehearsal at the dance studio with the other two members of StarKid. As T’Pring approached the studio, a large number of male dancers exited. Kirk went with them, drinking from a bottle of water. A towel was wrapped around her shoulders, and sweat dripped down her face. From an unobservant glance, her physical features did not hold femininity. However, her body was slimmer in build and shorter in height. It could be compared to the female in the photograph. 

T’Pring approached her, removing her PADD from her robe. Kirk looked surprise to see her and looked about her, as if to make sure that she was the one T’Pring had come to see. 

“Mister Kirk, peace and long life,” she said, offering her the _ta’al_. 

“And to you, Lady T’Pring,” she responded, returning the greeting. “What brings you here today?” 

“I arrived at Star Agency to gift President Sulu with free tickets to my upcoming performance,” T’Pring said. “I have come to you now to request a photograph. I am truly a supporter of your work.” 

“Um, okay,” Kirk agreed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck from visible discomfort. “You wanna take a selfie with me?” 

“Affirmative,” T’Pring responded, placing her arm around Kirk’s shoulders and raising the PADD to take the photograph. 

She was wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, which left her arms bare. As T’Pring’s fingers closed around her upper arm, she let one of Kirk’s conscious thoughts to wash over her. 

_I didn’t think photos were logical,_ Kirk mused to herself. The single thought was enough for T’Pring to notice the distinctly female wavelengths. She was undoubtedly the woman in the photograph with Spock. 

~ 

As Jen made her way out of the studio with Scotty, she mused over the photo stunt with T’Pring. 

“What do you think that was all about?” she asked him. 

“I think she’s found you interesting,” Scotty replied giddily. “President Sulu is completely pro a good relationship between StarKid and Lady T’Pring, so this is great news!” 

“Uh hu,” Jim said, a little doubtfully. T’Pring still seemed more than a little cold towards her. “I didn’t know I still had my charms as a guy.” 

“It’s funny, ‘cause Spock likes her, but she likes you,” Scotty commented, stopping Jen’s heart in its place. “You’ve outdone Spock! Ha! I wonder what he has to say about the bit, where his girlfriend’s flirting with human boys. Or undercover boys, in your case.” 

“Woah woah woah,” Jen said, whirling Scotty around to face her. “Spock likes her? As in he’s interested? She’s his _girlfriend_?” 

“Yeah, I was surprised, too, but Sulu told me that something’s going on between the two of them,” Scotty told her, raising his eyebrows insinuatingly. “Something _logical_ , if you know what I mean.” 

“But he looked like he really hated her,” Jen said quietly, dismay flooding her whole being. 

“You know Spock,” Scotty said happily. “He looks like he hates everyone. But it makes sense that it’s T’Pring, since she’s Vulcan, after all. I talked to Nyota, and she said that apparently, they were bonded as children. Vulcan children get bonded at the age of seven most of the time, but it’s like a betrothal, and that’s what Spock and T’Pring shared. But now, they’re more to each other.” 

“Who’s Nyota?” Jen asked dismally. 

“What do you mean, who’s Nyota?” Scotty asked in surprise. “Nyota Uhura, of course! What you didn’t know her first name?” 

“Nope, she never told me,” Jen said, too consumed with the new information to be mad at Uhura. Could Spock really be bonded to T’Pring and interested in the Vulcan female romantically? He had treated her so coldly before the Terran Music Festival. His eyes had held none of their human kindness A relationship between them seemed impossible. Scotty brought up a good point, though. T’Pring would probably be a better choice for Spock than… than any human really, since she would understand his need for space, privacy, and meditation like no one else. Who was Jen to feel a cutting ache in her heart? Who was she to let it be broken by someone, who would never have a reason to look at her in that light? Though it was difficult, Jen forced herself to pushed the new, tender feelings aside. It wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on them. 

After the rehearsal, StarKid had a scheduled lunch with President Sulu, who spent most of his time discussing future albums and contracts with Spock. Jen occasionally followed their conversation, glumly picking at her salad. With the exclusion of her allergies, she was probably the least picky eater. She was always craving something to munch on, but her appetite seemed to disappear with her mood. 

“So, Spock,” Sulu said conversationally, nudging Spock lightly with his elbow. “When are you going to tell the world about you and T’Pring?” 

“Your implication that T’Pring and I are involved is incorrect,” Spock said bitterly, and Jen’s heart did a little flipflop. “Assumptions about my personal life are not appreciated.” 

“Okay, I get it,” Sulu said, raising his hands in defeat. His face held a sly smile, though, which was hidden from Spock, who had averted his eyes. It made Jen’s heart plummet right back down. 

Sulu thought that Spock was embarrassed of telling the truth, which Jen knew was completely possible. Spock had already proved himself capable of lying, after covering up for Jen several times. Dammit, T’Pring! She made Jen lose completely any desire to eat. 

“You only like hot girls, right, Pasha?” she asked the Chekov sourly. “Pretty, Russian models with long legs and tantalising curves, am I right?” 

“Of course!” Chekov exclaimed, looking slightly worried for some reason. “As a heterosexual male, I have only been attracted to women. Girls, _girls_ , of all kinds! Curves or not, their bodies are attractive, and their faces are so sweet. Why are you asking? Do you think I like men, too?” 

“Being queer is a-okay, Pasha,” Jen said with a sigh. “Even if you ended up liking someone who looks a little bit more like a guy, you wouldn’t beat yourself up over it, right? We’re all shades of grey, I think.” 

“I suppose you are right,” Chekov agreed. “I’m really sorry, if I sounded offensive. I am just unused to questioning my own sexuality.” 

“It’s fine, I get it,” she replied, thinking about Spock. What kind of romantic interests did he usually have? Did he only prefer feminine beauties like Uhura and T’Pring, whose graceful, beguiling looks could make any man or woman swoon? If so, it left no room for a clumsy, boyish girl like Jen, who didn’t even have the desire to brush her hair or wash her face in the morning. 

“Okay, it’s time I share StarKid’s upcoming plans with the rest of you,” Sulu said suddenly, bringing their attention to him. “Before StarKid releases its fourth album, Jim is going to release a solo album of a the new single that Spock is composing, ‘Without Words’.” 

“Excuse me?” Jen asked, trying not to raise her voice to a shout. “When did I agree to this?” 

“When you signed the contract to join StarKid,” Sulu told her with a shit-eating grin. “Well, you can decline, but then I can choose to kick you out of StarKid, or officially stop working with StarKid. 

“Even though I was originally surprised to hear President Sulu’s plan, I predict it will be a successful endeavour,” Spock said, looking at her intently. “A solo album will both help your career, James T. Kirk, as well as bring attention to the release of StarKid’s new album, which will follow yours.” 

_You’ve gotta be kidding me, Spock,_ she tried to think at him, tilting her head and putting as much anger as she could into her eyes. _I’m not a performing artist to make a solo album!_

_This is your punishment for being deceitful in the first place, so go choke on your illogic,_ the tilt of his head and his raised eyebrow seemed to say. Jen sighed in irritation and defeat. How could she entertained any romantic thoughts of Spock? He didn’t give her a single ounce of mercy in return for her positive thought of him. 

~ 

Christine was spending her allotted time outside of Star Agency that day, expressing her undying support for Spock and the rest of StarKid. Needless to say, it didn’t make her happy to see a snoopy reporter lingering around the building with a camera, asking repeatedly whether Spock was seen with T’Pring. 

To be honest, talk of T’Pring made Christine’s blood boil. How dare she come to Earth out of the blue and try to steal Spock away, thinking she could get away with that just by being Vulcan and famous? Christine was positive that deep inside, underneath her cold Vulcan prickliness, she was just another Spock fangirl. And if any fangirl would ever win Spock’s heart, it would be Christine. 

Ultimately, she knew she wouldn’t be the one to decide whether or not Spock and T’Pring were together. And even though she didn’t like the idea, what she hated even more was that some nasty, scrutinising, greasy man was trying to pry his slimy fingers into Spock’s extremely valued privacy. Oh no, he didn’t. 

“Did you possibly see Spock and T’Pring leave the agency together?” Reporter Nero asked her, after receiving no affirmation from the rest of the fanclub. 

“How _dare_ you stick your nose in places where it definitely doesn’t belong?” Christine shouted indignantly. “I hope all of your photos get burned a fire and leave you forever unemployed!” 

“Speaking of photos,” the man said, ignoring her, and pulled some of the photocards that Christine was holding out of her hands. 

“Hey!” she shouted, hitting him as hard as possible on the head with her purse. “That’s mine!” 

He returned the photos to her after expecting them for a few moments, but he kept a hold of one. It was a snapshot of StarKid in the lobby, where Spock was standing with a woman clad in black, who was supposedly T’Pring. 

“It’s not her,” the reporter breathed in awe. “You can distinctly see that there’s no fancy diamond necklace, and she looks a bit shorter, too. This is a different woman! I can almost smell the scoop!” 

With that, he ran off with the photographer, leaving the dumbstruck Christine in his wake. 

~ 

Spock knew that he wished Kirk to remain in StarKid for as long as possible, but it was something he had to admit with difficulty. Even to himself. 

Ultimately, she would have to leave the band to allow the real James T. Kirk to take his place, but she kept leading Spock to believe that she wished before then. Spock chastised himself for ever placing the ultimatum of Kirk finding her mother. It seemed as if her main reason of her wanting to leave was her promise to Spock. 

Spock had no idea how to tell her that the promise no longer mattered, and that their newfound friendship was becoming more important to him than logic. He was uncomfortable with confessing this to Kirk. In addition, loyalty to her brother was not a strong enough basis to convince Kirk to remain in StarKid. This left Spock with a final option. 

He had not expected Sulu to suggest creating a solo album for Kirk using Spock's new composition. He composed without creating immediate plans, only putting his pieces to use, once there were enough available to create an album between both him and Chekov, who also dabbled in composition. Spock was reluctant to agree with Sulu at first, but further consideration led him to a different conclusion. If she were required to record a solo album, Kirk would remain in StarKid for the time being. 

When Scott and Kirk approached him after their lunch, they had begged him to convince Sulu to postpone the recording of the solo album until the real James T. Kirk returned. Recording a solo album meant intense scrutiny from interviewers and the public, as well as live performances and broadcasts. Kirk has not been expecting such an overload, but Spock was not inclined to be merciful. The need to have Kirk at his side overwhelmed the nagging guilt at making her stay somewhere she did not want to be, but he pushed it from his mind. 

"If you don't want to postpone anything, why can't you just record it yourself and make your own solo album?" Scott asked impatiently, as they were exiting the restaurant building. "Jen doesn't deserve being submitted to your cruelty!" 

"If Jen Kirk is unsatisfied with my decision, she is welcome to leave StarKid, completely erasing her brother's chances of returning to the band," Spock pointed out, continuing to walk at a brisk pace. 

At that moment, Scott's PADD chirped: notification of an incoming message. He checked it and proceeded to stare at the screen in horror. 

"Look what you did, Spock!" the Scotsman shouted abruptly. "You just jinxed it, too! Thanks to you, she's leaving!" 

"Excuse me?" Spock muttered, taking the PADD from him and reading the message. 

**_> >Scotty, I'm going to see Pike. Don't wait up._**

"Captain Christopher Pike is the man under whom she will serve aboard the _Enterprise_ , is he not?" Spock asked, keeping his panic under control. 

"Yes!" Scott exclaimed. "Oh, holy lord, what do I do? Sulu will have my head on a stick!" 

"Do not concern yourself for the moment," Spock told him, already heading in the direction of his hover car. "I will not allow her to leave StarKid without closure." 

Once in his vehicle, Spock enabled its Bluetooth, ordering it to call Kirk's communicator. 

"Where are you?" he asked, once she responded to his call. 

_"Spock, what's going on?"_ she asked. _"You sound a bit panicked. I'm just going to see Captain P-"_

"I am aware," he responded, cutting her off. "I repeat: where are you?" 

_"Um, okay. I'm at the corner of First and Second Street, trying to hail a cab."_

"Do not hail a cab, and remain there until my arrival," he ordered forcefully, ending the communication, before she had a chance to respond. 

He came to a halt at the said curb five point four three minutes later, taking two point two three seconds to register a befuddled-looking Kirk. 

She was dressed in what Spock recognised as the female Starfleet Academy cadet's uniform, which included a red thigh-length dress, black knee-length boots, and red cap. Her natural short blonde hair was hidden under the latter. However, dark glasses hid a large portion of her face, making her unrecognisable to the casual eye. A medium-sized bag hung over her shoulder, and it appeared be large enough to contain a complete set of personal belongings. 

While Spock's heart accelerated in his side, the anguish at the idea of seeing her for the last time overpowered him. 

"You are leaving now, dressed in your personal attire?" he called to her. 

She smiled at him, coming up to the hover car. 

"What's wrong with my uniform?" she asked. "I wouldn't call it personal." 

"How can you make the decision to leave StarKid without informing me or Manager Scott?" Spock asked, ignoring her. "Are you leaving in hopes that I will create an excuse for you, to explain your absence to everyone? Did you consider your uncle, who is still present at the suite? I cannot permit you to leave without explaining yourself. Are you unaware of the fact that it is your responsibility to justify yourself, and 'clean up your own messes,' as you would put it? Did you expect me to allow you to leave at a whim like yours?" 

"Woah woah woah, too many questions," she responded, removing her glasses and entering the vehicle at the passenger seat. "Did you think I was _leaving_ leaving? Quitting entirely?" 

"That is not your decision?" Spock asked, disappointed when he heard blatant hope in his voice. 

"No, of course not!" she responded with a laugh. "You're right: if I were going to, I would tie things up first, somehow. Captain Pike is coming to see me in New York about my exams and my ship assignment. He just messaged me half an hour ago or something. It's all really unexpected. I'm meeting a superior officer, so I'm dressed in my uniform. What, it made you think that I'm leaving for good?" 

"Yes," Spock said simply. 

"Well, don't worry, because I'm not," she said, patting his shoulder gently. "I'm meeting him in Central Park. Will give me a lift?" 

"Very well," he responded, starting the vehicle and beginning to drive in the park's direction. 

After two point eight three minutes of driving, Kirk asked, "Is it strange for you to see me as a girl?" 

"It is not entirely unusual, as you are still yourself," Spock replied. "However, I am now compelled to address you as _Miss_ James T. Kirk in front of others." 

"Jennifer, though," she reminded him. 

"Indeed. Is Miss Jennifer T. Kirk enjoying being reunited with her preferred appearance?" 

"Miss Jennifer T. Kirk's hair is still much shorter than it used to be," Kirk confessed. 

"You received a haircut to dress as your brother James?" Spock asked her. 

"Yup," she said. "I sacrificed my captivating feminine charm, including my golden locks, to become a stylish man." 

"Do you prefer your previous hairstyle to your current one?" Spock wondered. 

"I actually like this short hair better," she responded lightly. "It's relieving, after taking care of long hair for most of my life. After all, just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean this haircut doesn't look good on me." 

"The James T. Kirk I know, however, also possess the same haircut. How will I know the difference between the two of you?" he jested. Kirk looked at him in delightful surprise. 

"I love it when you joke around," she told him seriously. "And here, I'll even put a pin in it so you can tell between us." 

She removed her cap and attached a clip in the shape of a star to a strand of her short hair. It was covered in gold paint, which was partially worn away with time. It appeared to be a childhood accessory, which Kirk most likely adorned in her adolescence. 

"Even if it doesn't make me pretty, don't you think it makes me a tad more feminine?" she asked happily. 

"Are you insisting that this accessory will transform Mister James T. Kirk into Miss Jennifer?" Spock asked quizzically, not responding to her comment on her appearance. She was correct: the clip did not add to her beauty, but it was not because it did not exist. Her beauty already existed and thrived. 

"Spock, just call me Jen," she told him softly, placing a hand on his upper arm. "Please? When no one's around to be suspicious." 

"Very well," Spock said, purposefully appearing reluctant, when he was anything but. _Jen_. 

“Since you don’t like the clip, I won’t wear it,” Kirk - no, _Jen_ \- added, removing it from her hair. However, as soon as she pressed her fingers to it, it snapped into two pieces. 

“Oh!” she gasped in surprise. “Crap. It was so old. I should have been more careful.” 

Even though it would be illogical to do so, Spock yearned to apologise. It had not been broken by his hand, but it had been his insensitive, poorly-chosen words that caused Jen to remove the accessory unnecessarily. 

When they arrived at Central Park, Jen requested two hours for her rendezvous with Captain Pike. Spock complied, agreeing to meet with her at this exact spot at sixteen hundred hours. 

Once she had disappeared from his sight, Spock focused his concentration on inspecting the broken clip, which Jen had left behind. It would not be difficult to purchase a similar pin at a street vendor, as there were many located around Central Park. He parked his vehicle, opting to walk to the closest vendor in sight. Even though most of the Federation had reverted to automatic checkout registers and Standard credits, many places on Earth, and especially in the United States, continued to use American dollars. Such was the case with street vendors in New York. A human cashier greeted him as he approached, informing him that only American dollars in cash were accepted. 

“Do you sell clip accessories in the formation of a Terran representation of a five-cornered star?” he asked. 

“Sure,” the cashier responded, searching behind her and producing an assortment of different accessories. “You can choose any of these. Ten dollars each.” 

Spock inspected each of the clips carefully. They were not to be compared to Jen’s childhood accessory, which was a clip typically used to secure a human child’s bangs. These, however, were larger and more decorative. While Spock would never be able to specialise in such accessories, he attempted to choose a clip most suited the individual Jen was. 

Eventually, Spock chose one of the smaller clips, which would be possible to attach to Jen’s short hair. It was approximately eight centimetres in length and three centimetres in width, thus quite large enough to cover a noticeable surface area on the side of Jen’s head. It contained two stars of a golden colour at its centre, and fifteen smaller stars of different sizes extended around them, connected by metallic strands of the same colour. Spock knew that Jen wished to search for her mother amongst the stars. If she wished, the two centred stars on the clip would be able to represent Jen and her mother, reunited at last. 

“I would like to purchase this clip, please,” Spock said, handing it to the cashier. She smiled, nodding approvingly. 

“It’s really beautiful,” she commented. “A great choice. Your girlfriend will love it.” 

Spock did not correct her assumption, instead allowing himself to bask in the feeling of pure happiness, not bothering to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching slightly upwards. 

When he removed his wallet, however, he was surprised to find that the smallest bill he had was one for one hundred dollars. Spock did not wish to inconvenience her by ridding her completely of change. Without much contemplation, he left her one hundred dollars. It was not a difficult sacrifice. 

“Please accept the eighty dollars,” he told her, facing her awestruck expression. “No change is required.” 

As Spock waited for Jen at a nearby park bench, his communicator beeped with an incoming call. It was not a familiar number to Spock. 

“Who is calling?” Spock asked tonelessly. 

_“It is T’Pring,”_ sounded the unpleasantly familiar voice. His anticipation for reuniting with Jen was tempered by a flare of irritation. 

“Your possession of my personal information, including the number of my communicator connection, will lead me to strengthening the parameters of my private life,” Spock told her. “It is disgraceful that you choose to disregard them completely.” 

_“I am in possession of various photographs of the woman from the lobby,”_ T’Pring announced, making Spock’s heart jump higher in his side. _“One of my assistants was able to protrude a multitude of photographs, some of which clearly reveal the side of her face. I request a meeting with you at the south side of Central Park to discuss her identity.”_

“And if I refuse?” Spock asked, dreading the answer. 

_“I will turn in the photographs to reporters, who will place their efforts into investigations and possibly arrive at the correct conclusions.”_

Spock stifled a sigh. Calm, not unpleasant communication with T’Pring seemed impossible. She took every opportunity to exploit others’ weaknesses to receive what she herself desired. 

“Very well,” he responded, ending the transmission and beginning to make his way across the park. 

Spock noticed her from a distance, waiting for him by a water fountain. He approached her warily, preparing himself for her ceaseless interrogation. 

“I request that you reveal her identity and your relationship to me,” she told him, once he was in earshot. 

“If you are unable to deduce her identity from the photographs, neither will the human reporters,” Spock told her. “Or are you admitting to a lower intelligence and mind capacity than the disrespectful, obnoxious individuals, who pursue performing artists in their daily lives? 

“I simply wish for you to reveal the information willingly,” she informed him. 

“You are too emotionally invested in my private life,” Spock pointed out scornfully. “Are there indeed photographs, or was that in fact deceit, used to capture my undue attention?” 

“If you have just now come to this conclusion, then you are less comprehending than your appearance successfully makes you to be,” she told him. “Had there been photographs, I would have revealed them to reporters without your knowledge.” 

Spock turned to go, unwilling to arrive later than scheduled at his vehicle. The two hours were swiftly coming to an end. 

_“Heya, Spock,”_ Jen responded cheerfully, after accepting Spock’s call. _“I’m waiting at your car already. Will you be here soon?”_

“I apologise, but I will likely arrive one point two three minutes after our scheduled time,” he informed her. “Is that acceptable?” 

_“Oh, of course not,”_ she responded sarcastically. _“I just can’t seem to find the patience to wait a minute longer!”_

“I find your jesting strangely comforting,” Spock said. “Please remain the vicinity of my vehicle.” 

He was prepared to leave, but a startled yelp stopped him in his tracks. He turned, seeing T’Pring surrounded by a group of six human males of approximately eighteen to twenty years of age. She was undoubtedly stronger than them. However, he could see a wound blossoming above her eyebrow; the basketball, a human, spherical inflated ball, rolled away from the company. Even though the humans did not seem to be preparing for an attack of any kind, three held their PADDs at eye level, capturing videos and photographs of T’Pring, whose usually expressionless face was warring with barely concealed distress. 

Empathy warred with the urgency of returning to meet Jen, and the former eventually triumphed. Spock approached the group, forcing the young males to step away from her in surprise. Removing the Terran jacket he was currently adorning, Spock used it to cover T’Pring’s head and shoulders, hiding her face from the photographing individuals, until they were no longer in their line of sight. 

“Will you be able to reach your personal vehicle?” Spocked asked her tiredly, as they approached the edge of the park. 

“Affirmative,” she responded. Spock turned to leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “However, I do not wish to be seen in this state, and I will not be able to prevent photographs of my person without your assistance.” 

Spock agreed, following her at a distance to her hover car. He watched as T’Pring sat in the passenger seat, however, and he looked at her questioningly. 

“You are not willing to return to your home at this time?” Spock asked quizzically. 

“I am able to discern a head injury, caused by the impact of the Terran ball,” T’Pring responded. “It is not enough to be a mild concussion, but driving would not be inadvisable for me at this time. Will you be able to remain until the arrival of my manager, whom I will now notify of the incident?” 

Remaining signified leaving Jen for the time being, which was not a satisfactory plan. Nevertheless, Spock acquiesced. 

“It appears as if you are required elsewhere at the moment,” T’Pring commented. “Why are you choosing to assist me at this time?” 

“I have often experienced blatant violation of my privacy since I first began following the path of a performing artist,” Spock explained. “This violation includes non-consensual photographs throughout my daily life. It is not an aspect of my life on Earth that I can prevent. However, I would have appreciated assistance during such experiences of my own.” 

~ 

A crap-load of drama was currently going on at the studio, where Leonard and Chekov were still having dance rehearsals. A bunch of dancers were running around with their PADDs, whispering over newly released photos. A few models were sniffling while watching video recordings. Most importantly, President Sulu was having a meltdown right in the centre of the studio. 

“No, they are not _dating_!” he shouted into his comm. “Nope… No. They are not- If you are not willing to listen to me, why did you call me in the first place? Their Vulcan heritage amongst the sea of illogical humans that is Earth, specifically New York, is what brought Spock to stand up for her. I mean, she could have been attacked! Do you really think Spock’s the kind of person to… She is stronger than _one_ human man, not _six_. Think about what you’re saying, man! God, the absurdity!” 

From the single side of the phone conversation that he overheard, Leonard could tell that something had happened between Spock and T’Pring, whether it was actually serious or not. From Chekov’s PADD, he watched the video of Spock leading T’Pring, with her face hidden underneath his jacket, to a blue hover car. It was presumably T’Pring’s. 

When Leonard asked about where Spock and Jim were, Scotty had told them that they had gone out after the lunch. The thought had frustrated Leonard, as it meant another opportunity closing like a pair of sliding doors. However, he had not chased after the two of them dramatically, splattering his heart all over Jen's feet. Now, though, if Spock was with T’Pring, it meant that Jim was alone. 

Leonard was determined to change that. 

~ 

Jen waited by Spock’s car, getting a little worried, when Spock didn’t show up, even a few minutes after sixteen hundred. Spock, undoubtedly like all Vulcans, wasn’t one to be late. Like, ever, unless the circumstances were completely dire. Something must have happened for him to call her and warn her that he’d be held up for a few minutes. However, almost fifteen passed, and he still wasn’t there. 

She dialed his number on her communicator and waited for him to pick up, trying not to worry her bottom lip with her teeth too much. 

“Spock, where are you?” she asked, as soon as he picked up. “Did something happen? I’ve been worried sick!” 

_“Do not concern yourself with Spock’s absence,”_ came T’Pring’s voice in reply. _“He is unavailable at the moment. Do not wait for his return.”_

T’Pring cut the transmission, and Jen could only let out a breath. So Spock had run into T’Pring. That was just great. She knew she could catch a cab back to their flat, but she couldn’t return to the Star Agency area dressed as a woman. Unfortunately, she had left her bulky bag with her change of clothes in the back of Spock’s car, since she hadn't seen a reason to take it with her to talk to Pike, who had already left on his merry way. Jen cursed under her nose, despising the circumstances. 

She looked around her, feeling lost in New York’s busy streets. However, they were what held the answer: shopping. If she couldn’t get her hands on her own, she’d just buy some used t-shirt and the cheapest pair of sweats she could buy. 

Well, actually, while she was at it, she could use her James T. Kirk salary for something that was a little more fun. 

Just as she started heading down the street, casually window shopping, she got a call on her comm from Bones. 

_“Hey, Jim,”_ Bones greeted her. _“I heard about the whole thing with T’Pring. Apparently, she was hit in the head with a basketball by some jerks, and Spock helped her run away from the cameras. If he hasn’t told you, don’t worry about him. You’re not with him anymore, are you?”_

“No, he kind of left me hanging,” Jen responded bitterly, though she felt felt guilty for blaming Spock for leaving her simply for T’Pring. This was obviously more than a good enough reason. “Thanks for telling me what happened. ‘Cause when I called, little miss I-am-Vulcan-and-perfect picked up, and didn’t bother to say anything.” 

_“Sure. Do you want me to pick you up?”_

“Thanks, but no,” Jen responded, since her feminine apparel could create a slight problem. “I’m just doing some shopping near central park for the moment.” 

_“In that case, I have a plan,”_ Bones told her, quite mysteriously. 

“Oh really?” Jen asked, her spirits already lifting. “What’s that?” 

_“How about I’ll be your tour guide for the afternoon? I know the area quite well. I’m positive that I can get you into the stores with the best deals, where you’ll barely have to pay a credit.”_

“Barely a credit?” she asked with a mock gasp. “Gee, that’s intense. I can’t help but agree. Where should I go for a bite to eat?” 

For the next forty five minutes, Bones led her around the most thrilling blocks of New York. She was immensely grateful, more than she would be able to admit to him, as it took her mind off of Spock, at least for a short while. Rarely did they end the transmission during that time. Bones led her to a delicious, quality steakhouse, where he asked how it felt to finally dig into the meat that Spock so adamantly refused to see in the flat. Afterwards, he directed her to a delicious gelato café, where she not only groaned over a double scoop of green tea ice cream, but also got a free refill of another double-scoop serving! It seemed like Bones really knew his business around the place. 

When she asked him about clothing, he led her to an exquisite boutique, promising both the best material and the best prices. Jen was dubious at first, as it seemed like the type of place to sell a pair of jeans for no less than a thousand credits. However, his words proved true, and she was able to leave with a pair of stylish shorts, plaid sneakers, and a long-sleeve, all under fifty. 

As she was walking to the exist of the square, where the array of shops was located, Bones called once again. 

_“Where are you right now, Jim?”_ he asked her excitedly. 

“Um, I’m walking towards the fountain with the statue of the mermaid and the mercupids? Have you been here before?” 

_“Okay, okay,”_ he said. _“I’m gonna hang up, and you’re gonna turn around and see something interesting. Please do it. It’ll be totally worth it, okay?”_

Bones hung up, and Jen stared at her phone in bafflement. What was he talking about? 

She turned around, facing away from the fountain and the statue. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, so she started walking back in the direction she had come from. What had Bones meant? Was she supposed to see some _one_ right now? Did… did Bones- 

Her communicator beeped, signalling a transmission from Spock. She answered it, immediately starting to jog back in the direction of Central Park. 

“Spock!” she exclaimed through her phone. 

_“Why have you not followed my instruction to wait for my return by my vehicle?”_ he asked pitilessly, and Jen laughed from a warped feeling of relief. 

“You said to wait for one point something something minutes, not fifteen! And make that forty five, since you just called!” 

_“I apologise,”_ Spock said through what sounded much like an indignant sniffle. _“My assistance was required by-”_

“I know, I know, T’Pring,” Jen interrupted him sourly. “Bones told me. It’s fine. I completely and totally forgive you.” 

She was happy to see Spock waiting for her by his hover car. The hilarious part was that he wasn’t even leaning on it. He stood, unwavering, with the most unrelenting expression and the stiffest posture known to man of any race. She chuckled, wondering when Spock’s Vulcan quirks had become a comfort to her. 

She was about to climb into the backseat to change, when Spock stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

“Are you willing to return as James T. Kirk once again?” he asked her unexpectedly, his emotions carefully hidden behind the lines of his stoic face. “That is not strictly necessary. Should you choose to reveal and explain yourself to President Sulu, Leonard, and Pavel, I will assist you.” 

Jen’s emotions twisted into a sweeping turmoil, and her heart took a plummet to her feet. Here she was, whimsically and dreamily swooning over Spock’s silly facial expressions, when he wanted nothing more than help StarKid get rid of her as fast as possible. Jen had really done a great job with this one. She just happened to let herself fall for someone who probably couldn’t stand to even be around her for longer than necessary. It all seemed like fun and games as they rode around New York together. However, at the end of the day, someone as deceiving as Jen was not a great companion to have. 

Jen didn’t respond to Spock’s statement, instead climbing into the backseat and changing into her own binder and new attire behind tinted windows. She hoped Spock would interpret that as her answer: she’d stay James T. Kirk for now, until her brother returned to fill her shoes. That was her final decision. 

“Why did you let me join StarKid on that first day?” she asked, once they were driving back to Star offices. 

“As President Sulu had assured me, your voice was the one I had been yearning to find for my new compositions, including ‘Without Words,'” Spock exclaimed. “Your voice is… exceptional. It is an elegant and angelic second soprano, and could be easily labeled as divine. I have never heard a voice as unique as yours, before you sang 'Music of the Night' at our first meeting.” 

Jen smiled at the compliment despite herself. If only opera were her biggest aspiration. 

“I still have my voice,” she told him. “Will you let me stay as James T. Kirk for now? I’ll perform ‘Without Words’ for you, and for StarKid.” 

Spock nodded curtly, but Jen could still detect his disappointment with dismay. Hopefully, it would only be two weeks before she would be out of his hair. According to Pike, their plan to have her take her exams just before the start of the five-year mission was still on. She would be given the position of Chief Engineer, who was the third highest ranking officer on the _Enterprise_ , after Captain and First Officer. After disappearing from the Academy for what felt like decades, she was extremely grateful that she was allowed aboard the ship at all. 

“It appears that you did not locate anything unusual in your bag of personal belongings,” Spock commented suddenly. 

“What?” Jen said with wide eyes, already reaching behind her to pull it onto her lap. After searching through it for a few seconds, her fingers closed on something metallic. She pulled it out, revealing a magnificent hairpin. 

“I’d ask if this is T’Pring’s, but since it’s in _my_ bag…” she began, completely flabbergasted. 

“…then it must be a gift for you,” Spock finished for her. 

It was a multitude of interconnected stars, completely lovely. It looked like it had been made for her. 

“It’s just… so beautiful,” she said in a daze. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it. “I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I wished to repay you for your broken accessory,” Spock explained. “I wish to request the honour of seeing you adorn it.” 

“Oh, Spock, do you think I don’t want to wear this?” she asked him urgently, trying to erase the heart wrenching look from his eyes. “I’d love to. Even though my hair would probably hold it, a pin like this looks better with longer hair, and maybe an evening gown. I promise that I’ll wear it, when I get to be Jen Kirk once again.” 

“When you have the opportunity to be Jen Kirk, you will no longer be a member of StarKid,” Spock pointed out. “I… I will not witness you wearing it.” 

“You’re right,” she agreed with a sigh. “But don’t worry: I’ll send a holovid.” 

~ 

When they returned to Star Agency offices with the use of the more secluded back entrance, Spock was once against plagued with the sight of T’Pring. He left Jen’s side reluctantly to approach her. 

“You have used the excuse of needing to return my jacket, to come to Star offices at this time?” Spock asked her in frustration. 

“Indeed,” she responded calmly. “On my way indoors, I was intercepted by a multitude of curious and suspecting human reporters, who have been led to believe by our closeness that we are engaged in a romantic relationship that will serve to consummate our childhood bond. It is my observation that the truth does and will not satisfy the public. For successful publicity, it would be logical to engage in such a relationship.” 

“You are incorrect,” Spock told her, trying not to stare at her with his sweltering gaze. “It would be completely illogical, as it would be a useless deceit. I currently share no bond with you and hold no romantic interest in you, and neither will I in the future. As the commotion outside of the offices was caused by your appearance, it is your responsibility to inform them of the truth.” 

“If you refuse, I will reveal the identity of the female to the reporters, who currently await such a truth,” T’Pring threatened. 

“You have already proven to not be aware of her identity,” Spock told her, waving her meaningless threat aside. 

“Very well,” she responded, turning towards the lobby and walking away. 

Spock made his way towards Jen, who had been watching them warily from a distance. While he approached her, however, he received a message to his PADD. 

It included an attached photograph of T’Pring with her arm around a confused Jen. **_> >I am perfectly aware of her identity,_** it read. **_Do you reconsider?_**

Spock’s steps halted. T’Pring indeed had enough knowledge to disclose Jen’s secret. Spock’s heart seemed to heave in his side from what he knew he inevitable had to do. 

“Jen, if you will permit to ask me again,” he said seriously, looking straight into Jen’s alarmed, blue eyes. “Are you certain that you wish to remain in StarKid as James T. Kirk? As your brother?” 

“Yes,” she responded, honesty etched across her features. “Otherwise, Jim won’t be able to return and take my place.” 

Spock turned, following T’Pring in pursuit. Seeing her, he approached her swiftly, stopping her from her further descent down the stairs with a hand on her upper arm. 

“Do not think that I will allow you to rectify your mistake, Spock of V-” 

Spock framed her face gently with both of his hands, placing his fingers gently to her meld points. 

A world of flashing light and noise erupted around them.


	7. Chapter 7

From the upper floor, Jen saw Spock cradle T’Pring’s face so gently, initiating the intimate contact. As Vulcan’s kissed with their fingers, the action was undoubtedly on the level of a human makeout session. 

Jen could barely hear the immediate snap of the photographs all around them or the shocked gasps from the whole lobby, as the sound of her heart breaking reverberated through her the loudest. Jen wanted to turn away from them, or to at least close her eyes, but some deep, internal, masochistic part of her held her body in place, forcing her to watch. Spock, whom she had thought of, sillily enough, as _her_ Vulcan… Spock not only wanted her to leave StarKid, but he was also in love with another. 

Suddenly, two rough hands were placed on her shoulders, whirling her around to face Bones. With a wry, sad smile on his face, he led Jen away from the railing. 

“What are you doing, staring at the green-blooded hobgoblin like that? Another disappointed fangirl, are you?” he joked. Jen couldn’t be more grateful that Bones was here to startle her out of her reverie. 

“It’s so surprising,” she said, trying not to mumble or give anything away. “Spock didn’t seem to show much interest in her.” 

“You’re not the only one surprised, Jim,” he muttered. “There’s me, and Chekov, probably, as well as the whole Spock fanclub.” 

Bones was right. The fanclub, which usually lingered just outside of the lobby, was now in the building, barely held back by panicked bodyguards. Undeniable sobbing noises came from the group, and she could have happily joined them. Jen could make out Christine, who was both wiping her nose and lifting several posters saying ‘Congratulations!’ as if trying to spur herself and the rest of her friends on to be happy for Spock. Even though the level of her obsession was slightly off-putting, the fact that she chose to think of his feelings before hers was completely admirable. Jen needed to be like Christine. 

Even if it broke her to do it, she needed to be happy for him, too. 

~ 

_The significance behind a mind meld implies mental, emotional, and physical intimacy,_ Spock thought T’Pring through the meld. _It is likely that according to the human public, which is less educated in Vulcan rituals than you or I, we are currently engaging in a form of kissing. Do not resist my hold on you, as it will ruin the appearance._

_I did not suggest a fake romantic relationship,_ T’Pring thought back indignantly. _I demanded a real one._

_It would be illogical for me to deceive you as well as the public, and not inform you of the truth,_ Spock thought. _It will not be a real relationship for me, but I will attempt to create the appearance of its validity._

_If you choose to terminate our romantic relationship before I decide to do so myself or reveal the truth about the lack of its validity to the public or your fellow band members in StarKid, I will reveal the truth about James T. Kirk,_ T’Pring thought at him, raising her physical eyebrow in the process. 

_Very well,_ Spock thought, disconnecting from the meld. He desperately held back a shudder of disgust. To engage in such intimate contact, both physical and mental, was not an activity to be done between two individuals, who held distasteful feelings for one another. Spock did not wish to analyse T’Pring’s conniving ways. However, he could not help but think of Jen with unconcealable misery. 

Even though Spock wished for Jen to remain longer by his side, he did not wish to confess his feelings towards her or possibly engage in a real romantic relationship with James T. Kirk in the public eye. He wished to be with _her_ , Jennifer T. Kirk, but that would currently be impossible. Now, due to T’Pring’s insidiousness, he would be unable to be with her if Jen wished it, even in secret under the pretences of her fake identity. 

“A suitable partner would accompany his or her beloved to the safety of his or her home,” T’Pring said from behind him. 

“A suitable partner would allow his or her beloved to retreat to his or her home for much needed meditation after the transpired events of the day,” Spock replied, leaving T’Pring in the lobby to return to the flat. 

When Spock entered the suite, words of congratulation and party whistles exploded around him. Manager Scott, Frank Kirk, and his fellow band members were gathered around the set coffee table, waiting for Spock to begin a celebration. All of the noise died on their lips, however, when Spock looked at them as vehemently as possible. Though they were not aware of it, this was not a cause for celebration in the least. As he headed in the direction of his room, however, Jen left the table to approach him. She stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Congratulations, Spock, truly,” she told him, flashing him a blinding smile of crinkles and white teeth. He nodded once, brushing past her to avoid looking into her striking eyes. 

Sitting on his knees on his meditation mat, Spock couldn’t help but revel in his built up frustration at the situation. Jen, for whose sake he had engaged in an act that was his newfound relationship with T’Pring, was the one to take the time to congratulate him independently. If only she knew the truth behind Spock’s actions, she would have no need to thank him. However, not only did T’Pring’s demands included not revealing the truth to StarKid, and Spock also did not wish to burden Jen. 

~ 

Even though Spock had retreated glumly to his room, probably embarrassed at having caused such a big scene with T’Pring, the party continued in the living room. It did for Jen, at least. There was no way that she was going to let herself pass on a few drinks. Eventually, she found herself sprawled on the sofa next to Frank, who seemed to be way past sobriety. Jen was feeling tipsy herself, so she refused the next flute of champagne that Frank offered her. 

“What, you’re not going to take it, Jimmy?” he slurred. “Us Kirks are strong drinkers, but you seem to be just a lightweight!” 

“Yeah, well,” Jen muttered, trying to push herself up to her feet, falling back down several times. 

“Why isn’t that Vulcan out partying?” Frank asked, raising his hands to the ceiling, as if asking God Almighty. “He just got himself a girl, against all odds.” 

“Actually, I think I’ll take that drink,” Jen said, flopping back down on the sofa again and pulling the flute out of Frank’s hands. It was pulled out of her own, however, when Chekov leaned over her with concern. 

“I suggest that you stop drinking, Jim,” he said, downing the alcohol himself and offering her a hand to stand up. She took it gratefully, giggling when she almost fell over. 

“ _Боже мой _, you _are_ really drunk!” Chekov exclaimed, following Jen out onto the balcony. “Are you… are you upset about T’Pring and Spock?” __

“ _Yes_ , I’m upset about T’Pring and Spock!” Jen exclaimed, too tired and tipsy to watch her big mouth. “God, T’Pring… Pasha, how do I stop liking? Loving? Is it like stopping my heart from beating? Do you think that maybe I just act like Spock’s fan, instead, my pining will be justified?” 

“Jim, it is not crime to like someone,” Chekov told her, rubbing her back sympathetically. “A writer I love once said, that those who do not love are guilty. I take it to mean that those who do love are guiltless. In that area, anyways.” 

“You really think I’m guiltless, then?” Jen asked, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“ _Да_ ,” Chekov said, nodding. “There’s nothing wrong with liking someone. Instead, there is everything right.” 

“Thanks for the words of comfort, Chekov,” she said, clapping him on the back. Maybe he was right. Everyone deserved to give away a piece of their heart. 

~ 

When Spock emerged from his meditative trance, the noise from the living room had dissipated, signifying the end of the party. It was one hundred hours. However, Jen had not returned to their temporarily shared quarters, giving Spock a cause for concern. 

He left his quarters, intending to find Jen. When he realised that she was not on the first floor, he ascended the stairs, his worry increasing considerably. 

Eventually, however, he located her in the piano room, noticing her as he walked by. She was lying underneath the grand piano, curled up on her side and facing away from Spock. Her breathing was not deep enough to indicate sleep. However, her presence here was enough to question her mental state. 

He entered the room, walking around the piano to its other side, squatting in front of Jen for their eyes to be on the same level. Her eyes were closed, but she was emitting a quiet, contemplative hum. Her fingers were curled together under her chin. 

"Jen?" he prodded her gently. 

"Shhh," she instructed, bringing a finger in the direction of his lips without opening her eyes. Her finger landed on the side of his face. Spock did not push it aside. "I am searching for the answer." 

"What is the question?" he asked her patiently. 

"Guilty or not guilty," Jen said with a sigh. "That is the question." 

"Did you cause an accident in your inebriated state, Jen?" he asked, taking her hands gently, attempting to encourage her to abandon her place under the piano. She nodded, resisting his attempts. 

"A really bad accident," she said urgently. "Lying here is my punishment. Don't pull me out!" 

"Very well," Spock responded, sitting down behind the piano keys for a different tactic. Too indignant to simply bang the keys, he began to play the most grandiose concerto he knew, trying to use the powerful volume to lure Jen out of her hiding. It was not effective, however, and Jen did not even voice any complaints. 

Spock accepted her request, abandoning his attempts to pull her out. He paused his playing. 

"Have you taken the time to listen to my composition?" he asked her. 

"Oh, since its _Spock_ 's composition, it must be so _great_ , huh?" Jen asked sourly. "But wait, no! It _is_ great! I almost forgot: Spock, I'm your fan!" 

"I do not require you to be my fan, Jen," Spock told her, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly. 

"But I _have_ to be a fan," Jen said frantically from beneath the piano. "If I’m a fan, it’s okay to get all emotional over you and your work. Let me be your fan, Spock, please?" 

"You are not simply a fan, Jen," Spock pointed out. "You are a significant individual in my life, and you will be the one to perform my piece. Please, put aside your current concern and concentrate." 

Spock began to play the instrumental version of "Without Words,” pouring as much as he could into the music for Jen. He entrusted her with his music. Could he entrust her with his heart? 

No sound came from Jen as Spock's fingers stilled. He crouched by her once again, seeing that she had fallen asleep. As gently as possible, so as not to wake her, he cradled her body to his, lifting her with his hands supporting her shoulders and knees. 

As he lay her down amongst her pile of blankets in the corner of his room, he watched her sleeping figure with contemplation. Would it have been easier to never know her as a woman, but only as James T. Kirk? In that case, she might never have been the cause of the turmoil in his life or inside of himself. 

~ 

Jen was worried for the start of her recording of "Without Words.” Even though she was alone in the recording room, Sulu, Scotty, and the producer watching her from outside, adjusting the levels of the background track and preparing to listen to the final product. The producer was going on and on about the texture that her vocals needed to be, and she desperately tried to follow along. 

Jen had memorised the piece by listening to it over and over again, as sight singing was impossible. She hadn't studied music theory of any kind, and she only learned to read music a week ago. Despite being a good singer, she was still an amateur. 

She wasn't even a minute into the piece, when the producer stopped her through the intercom between his the recording room and the outside. Frustration was written clearly on his face. She cringed, waiting for his angry words. 

"You're hitting the notes, but you're not putting any emotion into it," he said in exasperation. "It's like having a computer programme instead of a human playing a piece. It's like printing Vulcan calligraphy. It’s just not working." 

Well, that was harsh. More emotion? Jen hadn't practised applying her internal emotions to singing before. She tried to keep what she truly felt hidden as far away as possible. On a starship, there was no room for emotional compromise. Now, she was expected to birth a fountain of feelings. This would transform her into an honest-to-God mess. 

Before she began singing again, Scotty interjected for a break and quickly pulled her aside. 

"You've never been in a relationship before, Jen?" he asked. 

"What has that got to do with anything?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously, until he gave her a stern look. "Not in a real one. I'm more of a fling and one night stands type of gal. Or, I used to be." 

"I get you," he said thoughtfully. "So you've never experienced those kinds of feelings for someone? When you felt that a fiery passion ws consuming your blood, or when your heart raced whenever you saw them? But most importantly, when you felt like you'd just burst from loving them?" 

Jen said nothing. To say no would be a lie. But to admit that yes, she had and _was_ experiencing them, would let her be consumed by them all over again. 

"I can't say," she said eventually. "But I'll try to find them within me and put them into the song." 

She didn't try, however, leaving the next takes to be as unsuccessful as the first. To try meant to see Spock cute eyebrows behind her eyelids; to hear his unbearably sexy baritone boss her around; to feel his heart pound underneath her fingertips, like it had when she had wrapped her arms around him; to replay his moment with T'Pring over and over and over again. 

~ 

According to President Sulu, StarKid was required to attend T'Pring's harp concerto performance. This was due not only to the VIP tickets she had given them, but also to the relationship between Spock and T’Pring. According to everyone in Spock's social sphere, it would be unacceptable to refuse her invitation. 

The performance itself, as Spock had expected, was flawless and commendable. T’Pring’s skill at the harp and vocals was unquestionable, making it a not unpleasant pass of time. Spock thought, wryly, that if T’Pring’s personality were anything as refined as her musical profession, his regard for her would not be so difficult to imagine. 

Afterwards, StarKid greeted T’Pring in the performance hall. Expectedly, she and Spock were immediately surrounded by ever-present reporters, who ignored the others in favour of once again inquiring upon their personal lives. 

“Mister Spock, Mister Spock,” someone called out to him urgently. “Do you feel jealous at all of any of T’Pring’s colleagues, who seem to have more time to spend with her than you?” 

“No,” Spock replied tersely. “It would be illogical to resent the necessities of T’Pring’s profession.” 

T’Pring looked at him with unconcealed coldness, from which Spock derived a dark satisfaction. It allowed him to respond to the rest of the reporter’s inquiries in a calmer manner. 

“As a Vulcan, it is your responsibility to be extremely protective of your mate,” T’Pring told him afterwards, as he searched for his bandmates, who had disappeared from view. 

“I understand that I was mistaken in believing that my logic would have been appreciated by a Vulcan such as yourself,” he commented absently, beginning to make his way towards Manager Scott. He was standing near the bar, holding a drink in each hand. 

“Very well,” T’Pring said, with an obviously stifled sigh. She stopped Spock with a hand to his shoulder. “I request that you attend the orchestra’s evening after party by my side.” 

“Absolutely not,” Spock responded. 

“I suspect that you recall the terms of our agreement,” T’Pring countered. Spock almost distrusted his superior Vulcan hearing. Was it indeed possible to take such extreme advantage of someone’s weakness through blackmail, the likes of which T’Pring was doing now? 

“I have so far participated in every single activity, in which you wished me to take part,” Spock insisted. “Shall I reiterate how completely illogical and unappreciated every single one of them is to me? Is it indeed gratifiable for you to see me suffer?” 

“It is not, but it is indeed gratifiable to have every single one of my requests granted,” she pointed out. “It is not satisfying in the least to see how much displeasure you experience for Kirk’s sake. I demand that you cease complaining about being in my presence at once. Otherwise, her secret will be revealed.” 

“Very well,” Spock said through gritted teeth, shaking off T’Pring’s hand and continuing towards Scott. Luckily, she did not follow. 

“Spock, my lad!” Scott exclaimed, appearing to already be slightly inebriated. “Would you like a drink?” 

“Negative,” Spock responded swiftly. “What is the location of my bandmates?” 

“Well, McCoy and Chekov have already left with President Sulu,” Scott replied. “And Jen’s packing for her trip with Frank to Riverside, Iowa.” 

“Excuse me?” Spock asked, bewildered yet concealing it. 

“It’s her birthplace, and her father’s too,” Scott explained. “His memorial is happening this weekend, and they’re flying out to be there all day tomorrow.” 

“Is there any possible way to accompany her?” Spock asked urgently. 

“What do you need to do that for, Spock?” Scott asked in confusion. “You think Jen can’t take care of herself? Don’t tell her that, or she’ll do something more painful to your privates than you could ever imagine. I speak from personal experience, my friend.” 

“To care for her well-being was not my intent, despite the undeniable fact that she often neglects it herself,” Spock said, thinking quickly. “I do not wish to attend the evening celebration to which I was invited by T’Pring, as I am uncomfortable with being in the midst of enormous crowds for longer than necessary. She is unable to understand that. In addition, I must enforce Jen’s rehearsal of my piece. Practice is not to be neglected at this crucial time.” 

“Two different types of lady problems, eh?” Scott asked with a suggestive smile. “I see where you’re coming from. I think I know what we’re going to do.” 

~ 

“Why are you coming with us, again?” Jen asked Spock for something like the one hundredth time. 

“Do you request a written explanation to avoid forgetting?” Spock asked wryly. “I am accompanying you to make sure that you are not losing focus for the upcoming recordings of ‘Without Words.’” 

“I already recorded it a few times,” she told him sourly. “It didn’t go very well.” 

“All the more reason to make use of my assistance now,” Spock pointed out matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t think you’ll be of much help to me at the moment,” Jen muttered. “Scotty and Sulu keep going on about emotion, and how I don’t express it enough while I sing. It’s really a wonder that you got so far in this industry, seeing as how much goddamn _emotion_ you have to put behind your words. I can’t believe they’re saying something like that to me instead of you.” 

“If you believe that Vulcans do not possess emotions, you are mistaken,” Spock told her. She looked at him with interest. “Emotions run deeply within Vulcans, perhaps even deeper than within humans. In the days before Surak and the Reformation, passionate emotions were the greatest cause of violent death between tribes. Suppression of acting upon those emotions, instead choosing to act upon logic, has led Vulcan to peace and prosperity.” 

“So, you’re saying that it’s not difficult for you to feel?” Jen asked. 

“It is not,” Spock agreed, inclining his head. “Quite the opposite. At times, it is difficult for me to choose not to feel.” 

“I see,” Jen commented. It made sense, since Spock definitely wasn’t as stoic and emotionless as everyone made him out to be. 

Jen was driving a rental car, with Spock in the passenger seat and Frank snoring slightly in the back. They had arrived at the airport in Riverside at twenty three hundred, local time, and they were now driving to Frank’s farm to stay there overnight. It wasn’t particularly isolated, as it was located in the vicinity of many other farms, which, put together, made a little village. It even had a downtown, where all the farmers sold shares of their crops to visitors passing through. 

Jen wasn’t particularly pleased to stay with Frank, and the whole prospect of being in Riverside seemed repugnant to her. Like the single orphanage that it held, it was the keeper of her many depressing childhood memories. 

“Spock, I’m gonna stop here for some soda, okay?” Jen said, as they pulled into the village, stopping at the first food stand that was still working. “Would you like anything?” 

“A water will suffice, thank you,” he responded. 

Since they had run out of water bottles, Jen grabbed a mineral water for Spock. It was basically the same thing as water, except carbonated, and carbonation itself was harmless. She hoped he’d be fine with it. 

“Here,” she said, handing it to him as soon as she rushed back to the car. “The only water bottles left were gigantic.” 

“This is acceptable,” Spock responding, unscrewing the cap. Suddenly, fizzling water exploded out of the bottle, spilling at least two thirds of it out and onto Spock’s dress shirt and slacks. 

“Oh shit,” Jen said, staring at Spock’s practically seething expression. “I ran all the way back. It must have really shaken it up.” 

“Indeed, it must have,” Spock responded bitterly. 

“Are you going to try blaming this on me, too?” she asked in amusement, trying not to laugh at his displeased expression. “You’re the one who opened it immediately. Don’t you know how carbonated water works? Why are you wearing formal clothing, anyways?” 

“I arrived at the terminal directly from T’Pring’s performance, wishing to board the plane in time,” he told her. “I only possess the belongings which were with me at the time.” 

“I should have remembered that you don’t have any luggage,” she muttered. “I take it that you don’t have a change of clothing, then?” 

“I do not,” Spock agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “While I do not require a change of clothing at the moment, if you would be amenable…” 

“I can give you some clothes for tonight and tomorrow, Spock, it’s not a problem,” she said with a smile. “Don’t want you smelling around me.” 

“You are under the impression that Vulcans posses sweat glands,” Spock said, turning to face her. “You are incorrect. Due to the high temperatures on our planet, Vulcans do not possess sweat glands to preserve bodily fluids for the sake of survival. It is more comfortable, as well.” 

“So you don’t cry, either?” Jen asked. It wasn’t really surprising. Not enough toxic chemicals were formed in Vulcans’ brains as an emotional response, so there was biological need for the release of tears. 

“Vulcans do not cry,” Spock said stiffly. 

“Would you still like a change of clothes for tomorrow?” Jen asked. “A suit isn’t the best thing to wear on a farm. It can get even dirtier.” 

“Very well,” Spock agreed. 

As Jen pulled up to the farm, Frank woke gingerly, looking immensely pleased with himself. 

“Oh, I’ve been telling all my lads about you, Jim,” he said. “No one could truly believe me how famous my nephew was when I told them about you, but they’ll be sure to believe me now.” 

“What, did they not believe that James Kirk and Frank Kirk were relatives?” she asked, smirking. “I wouldn’t believe it either, honestly.” 

“Naw, they simply don’t know who you are,” Frank confessed. “Actually, even if you showed up at my doorstep, that wouldn’t prove nothin’, since they wouldn’t recognise your face! Spock, I’m glad you’re here. They’re bound to recognise you, at least.” 

“It is not a problem if they do not,” Spock said politely. 

“It’s a problem for me!” Frank protested. “I want to be looked up to around these parts!” 

Jen sighed. It figured that all her uncle wanted was a piece of fame, and he was going to use her brother’s achievements to receive credibility in this little shitty town. Well, fine. He could have the fame if he wanted to. Jen didn’t care for it. 

Frank was right: having a famous nephew would get him a lot of attention. As soon as the three of them stepped a foot onto Frank’s property, the lights went up all around the farmhouse’s front yard. 

“Surprise!” sounded from all around them. About a dozen of different families seemed to be there for the surprise party, and Jen didn’t know any of them. Maybe she had met them before before her father died, but that was too long ago for her to recognise a familiar face now. Men, women, and children crowded around them, staring intently at Jen and Spock. 

“I don’t recognise these kids at all, Joey,” someone said. “Do you?” 

“Their car and clothes don’t seem fancy enough for rock stars,” one woman commented. 

“What do you mean, you don’t recognise Spock, either?” Frank sputtered. “He’s the leader of StarKid, dammit!” 

“I ain’t heard of no StarKid before, Frank,” some said heartily. “They haven’t even appeared on Fox News before.” 

“Why would they appear on Fox News, Sully, it’s an outdated political channel-” 

“No one watches Fox News anymore, not even in Iowa-” 

“What channel _have_ you been on before, eh?” a man asked, poking Jen rather uncomfortable in the chest. She tried not to squirm. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, and others,” Spock began unexpectedly, “I request that you allow us passage to Mister Frank Kirk’s abode. This has been a long and taxing day for the both of us. It has indeed been a longer day than usual, in fact, as we have flown from New York, where it is currently oh hundred thirty two, not eleven hundred thirty two. The hours of our day have been increased, and sleep is required for Mister Frank Kirk and Mister James T. Kirk to prepare them for the memorial ceremony tomorrow.” 

Frank’s neighbours stepped back, letting the three of them pass through. Jen looked at him gratefully, mouthing a thank you. She was too exhausted at the moment to deal with their questions. 

When they were inside, Frank showed them to their respective rooms. Jen threw a couple of t-shirts, shorts, and sweats at Spock for him to wear both the night and the morning, and retreated to her own room. Too tired to do much else, Jen crashed on the bed. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

The next morning, Spock offered to wear his suit and accompany Jen and Frank to the memorial ceremony, but Jen convinced him to stay behind in the village and do his own thing. Explore, listen to music, meet illogical humans, etc. He had complied, appearing relieved. Jen knew that it was difficult to be present for something so dark and emotional. 

It was the fifteenth anniversary of her father’s death. As Frank had organised it when Jen’s father died, every five years was an opportunity for George Kirk’s loved ones had the opportunity to gather together and say a few words. That being said, even Frank didn’t know whom the descriptor “loved ones” included. Five years ago, apparently, some of his university friends and colleagues had shown up. He wasn’t sure who would be there today. 

“George left Riverside after finishing high school to become a professional singer, and I hadn’t been involved in his life from then on,” Frank confessed, as they were walking to the cemetery from the village, where they had parked and left Spock to explore. “That’s why I never knew your mother. He only came back with you and your sister after she had already left you. I don’t know if there’s anyone in Riverside who still remembers him and cares enough to come today. Maybe someone from another area will show up. I am sure that there are people out there who knew your father much better than me.” 

If anyone else were there, Jen would be able to ask whether they knew anything about her mother. That fact that she could never do anything about it did not bother her. 

George Kirk had been cremated, but his memorial remained in the corner of the quiet cemetery. Frank and Jen made their way through the quiet paths, the smell of fresh vegetation surrounding them. The cemetery seemed completely deserted today. Only one woman, completely clad in black, with her face hidden behind a dark scarf, passed them on their way towards George’s memorial. 

When they approached it, however, Jen saw that her father had already been visited. Fresh flowers, undoubtedly left today, were lying in the slot in the columbarium that held her father’s remains. Someone had come to pay their dues on this anniversary of his death, but they had not stayed to meet his relatives. 

After placing the bouquet of flowers next to the ones already there, Jen and Frank stood quietly for a few moments, side by side. She had only been six years old when her father died, but she vividly remembered the memorial service after the cremation. She and Jim had stood much like her and her uncle now. Their heads had been bowed, but they had not cried. At six years old, it had been difficult to know what to make of their father’s death. It was later that she realised how challenging her life would become. 

As they walked back in the direction that they had come from, Jen suddenly remembered the woman who had passed. Had she been the one to leave flowers? No one else was or had been in sight. 

“Frank, did you recognise the woman who passed us on the way to the columbarium?” she asked slowly. 

“No, I didn’t catch a glimpse of her face,” he replied. “It was completely covered. You think she was the one who left those flowers?” 

“I think it’s a possibility,” Jen said, beginning to jog in the direction of the exit. 

“Jim, wait!” Frank called from behind her, but she wasn’t listening. She sprinted to the gates, where one of the parking lots was. A single hover car was pulling out, and Jen ran towards it. 

“Stop the car!” she yelled, trying to catch up to it, as it lifted into the air and began gaining speed. “Did you know my father?” 

But it was useless. If the driver saw her in the rearview mirror, he didn’t stop to give her the time of day. She stopped in her tracks, breathing heavily. Would she be able to get a hold of this woman, somehow? 

When Frank caught up to her, looking as if both of his lungs had collapsed, Jen began making her way back to the village. Maybe Spock would know what to do, how to find her. Even though she knew that both of her parents had passed, it didn’t stop her from wanting to learn more about their lives. Especially since about her mother, she knew nothing. 

When they returned to the village, Frank stopped by a local pub to drink with a friend, while Jen went looking for Spock. She tried calling his communicator and sending a message to his PADD, but he would neither pick up nor reply. Jen wandered into different restaurants, pubs, ice cream parlors, and stores for about forty five minutes, but he was nowhere to be found. 

More than slightly worried, she went back to the pub, where Frank had stopped, only to find him merrily drinking and loudly laughing at something his friend was telling him. 

“I can’t find Spock anywhere,” she told him, whirling him around to face her. “Is there any secret hiding place or alien voodoo that I’m supposed to automatically check for missing persons?” 

“I don’t know, Jim,” Frank responded absently, “but listen: John’s just been telling me the story of the pig that went missing today.” 

“I don’t have time for pigs right now, Frank-” Jen began. 

“No, no, this story you’ve got time for,” Frank’s friend John cut in. “It wasn’t just any pig: it was a huge boar, and it had run off from some farmer earlier this morning. Apparently, it was chasing around some guy in the fields outback, but he escaped by running off into the woods.” 

“Some guy?” Jen repeated. 

“Yeah, some idiot who had been too engrossed in his own thoughts to hear a boar comin’ at ‘im,” John replied. “The man had been sitting in the middle of the field with his eyes closed. I mean, who does that?” 

“Spock,” Jen breathed. 

“What?” 

“Spock does that,” Jen said, panicked. “Well, I mean, I’ve never seen him do that, specifically, but he was probably meditating in the fresh breeze.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Frank muttered, already dialing someone’s number on his comm. “Hello? Is this T’Pring?” 

“Jesus H. Christ, Frank, why are you calling T’Pring?” Jen protested, trying to rip the phone out of Frank’s hands. “We need to get back to the farm get the thing I need to go rescue Sp-” 

“Yes, this is Frank, Jim Kirk’s uncle,” Frank continued, ignoring her and keeping her thrashing body at arm’s distance. “We’re, uh, in Riverside, Iowa, which is quite far away, but Spock’s in an emergency, so you might as well show up. He’s been chased by a pig, and now he’s nowhere to be found.” 

“What the actual fuck, Frank?” Jen hissed. “I can find him on my own, if only you’d give me the keys to your stupid barnhouse or something-” 

“Yup, I’ll message you the address,” Frank continued over the phone. “Uh-hu. Okay. Bye.” 

“Give me your goddamn keys,” Jen said. Frank handed them over, smiling wistfully. 

“Having one more star at my own home won’t hurt, will it?” he asked. “I’m a famous chap myself around these parts.” 

“A crazy, self-centered drunk is what you are,” Jen muttered, storming out of the bar. 

While she drove the short distance back to the farm to get some basics like food and water for Spock, she couldn’t help but imagine different scenarios of what would happen if Spock couldn’t be found. Ultimately, Spock was smart enough to get out of the forest on the side of the village alive. However, he had night blindness, and Jen had been privy to his terrible sense of direction. What would he do if he were stuck there in the dark? Worse, what would President Sulu do? 

President Sulu would, undoubtedly, have her, Frank’s, and Scotty’s heads, just like he always promised. T’Pring would point fingers at her and call down the Vulcan Council of Elders to ensure her arrest. Bones would shed manly tears in grief, which would suffocate her heart, and Chekov would wail in Russian into a pillow. 

There was no way that she would be coming back out of those woods without Spock. 

After a quick stop at Frank’s farmhouse, she drove back to the alleged field, which was located behind the series of houses along the main road. She tried to envision Spock, out here in his unnatural habitat. Exactly where, in the middle of this vast field, would he sit to meditate? 

As he had come from the direction of the village where Jen and Frank had dropped him off, he must have remained close behind it. So if the boar had begun to chase him, he probably ran the shortest path into the woods, so straight into it, instead of too far to the left or right. 

As she walked towards the woods, she saw two different hiking trails. It was a fork: while one path plunged the hiker straight into the thick growth, the other was a lot lighter; trees were sparse there. Jen took the lighter path, since Spock might have found it difficult to see on the other. 

Eventually, she came to another fork in the road, which separated a more muddy path from a drier one. Spock wouldn’t want to make a mess of his shoes or even of Jen’s lame sweats, so Jen was sure that the drier path was an accurate guess. 

Along the way, however, she spotted a particularly big yet smushed piece of dung. She didn’t want to inspect it too closely, but Spock’s borrowed hiking shoes had left a footprint. She snorted. Even after trying avoiding dirt, he ended up stepping into something much more disgusting. 

Jen could hear rushing water nearby, so she continue to head in that direction. It was safe to say that Spock wanted to wash away the dung and the remaining smell from his shoes, since he wasn’t one to tolerate something like that for long. Sure enough, she saw him sitting on a rock in front of a thin stream, facing away from her, with his shoes set down next to him. 

“Spock!” she called, lumbering over to him, her heavy backpack holding her back from running. He turned, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“I had already begun to suspect that you would not detect my absence,” he commented. 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” she said, relieved at finding him. “As soon as I heard about the pig, I started shaking from fear at the thought of what Sulu would do to me if there were even a scratch on your body.” 

“Then it was your well-being for which you were concerned?” he asked pointedly. 

“Of course!” Jen responded, coming to sit next to him. “Who else could I be concerned for?” 

“I have been waiting for the water to completely evaporate from this footgear,” he told her. “I am ready to return immediately, since I greatly require drinkable water. I do not believe that the water in this stream would be classified thus.” 

“I brought water for you!” she told him excitedly, pulling two water bottles out of her backpack. “Here. There’s no hurry now.” 

“You have thoroughly prepared for my rescue?” he asked in surprise. 

“Yup!” she responded, ticking off her fingers, as Spock drank, leaning his head back and revealing a tantalising sliver of throat. “I brought clean clothes, in case you were cold; a towel, in case you were totally dirty; a first aid kit, in case you were hurt; and food, in case you were hungry.” 

“Indeed?” he asked, a corner of his lips twitching just slightly. “Your thoughtfulness is truly much appreciated. How were you able to locate me?” 

“I followed my sixth sense,” Jen said proudly. “My Spock sense, really. Or you can just call it logic. I thought about which paths you would take, and I followed them.” 

“Had you not been so closely acquainted with me, I would remain alone and in distress,” Spock said, the tilt in his voice indicating that he was joking. 

“But isn’t that partially true?” Jen asked seriously. “Because of your night blindness, it would have been hard for you to go back on your own. The sun’s already setting. Let’s head back now, before it gets completely dark. My vision’s not too good in the dark, either, since I’m not a nocturnal animal, but I do have a flashlight.” 

“That is a relief to hear,” Spock said sourly, getting up and following Jen back down the path. 

As they walked, the night sky eventually emerged through the trees above them. Jen kept the pace slow for Spock to see her ahead of him and follow. She resisted the urge to take his hand to guide him: it wasn’t her place. 

“Why did you let that pig get to you, anyways?” Jen asked conversationally. 

“I did not allow the pig to ‘get to me,’ Jen,” Spock replied indignantly. “It felt threatened by my presence and followed me in aggressive pursuit. As I did not wish to cause it harm while preventing its attack, I outran it, instead.” 

“Of course, of course,” Jen hummed sarcastically. “You were just worried for the pig, not yourself.” 

“That is the partial truth,” Spock commented, and Jen barked out a laugh. Suddenly, a bush rustled to their left, and Spock twitched so greatly that he collided into Jen. 

“Not afraid of wolves, are you?” Jen asked teasingly. “Or mountain lions?” 

“I am positive that neither canines nor felines are anything but domesticated in this part of the planet,” Spock commented. “This is not an environment in which either of these species thrive. If any do exist here, it is in an animal shelter for wounded or endangered animals.” 

“You’re right,” Jen said, circling around Spock slowly, before pouncing onto his shoulder and shouting, “but some might have escaped into the wilderness!” 

Spock gave out a very un-Vulcanlike yelp, and Jen almost died from laughter. 

“Come on, Spock!” she said, poking him in the side. “Wolves and mountain lions are essentially puppies and kittens who don’t taking any shit from humans who try to domesticate them. Everyone knows that puppies and kittens are adorable, even if they’re dangerous.” 

“While wolves and mountain lions are not species of animals native to Vulcan, our planet _is_ populated with the _norsehlat_ and the _sa-te kru_ , which resemble canines and felines, respectively,” Spock told Jen with a note of contemplation. “Vulcans do not see the logical in categorising animals by level of endearment, which may partially explain Vulcans’ disinclination from domesticating almost any animal that may exist on Vulcan. Unlike the sehlat, which has the potential of protecting a Vulcan child in the open desert from predaceous animals, the _norsehlat_ and _sa-te kru_ do not form bonds of companionships with Vulcans. They have no capability of ever caring about another’s life. However, during my brief encounter with an infant _sa-te kru_ as a child, I realised that I am… not immune to its effects.” 

“Aw, Spock, you softy,” Jen cooed. “You’re scared of puppies and kittens, because they bring out the illogical and the sweet within, you huh?” 

“Absolutely not,” Spock snapped, but Jen only grinned in self-satisfaction. “Cease speaking of such illogic.” 

They were walking down the field towards the road, when suddenly, Jen’s flashlight gave out. The lights from the village were distant, but it wouldn’t be impossible to get there without the flashlight working. The newfound darkness, however, did make it possible to see the stars. 

“Let’s sit down for a bit,” Jen said, plopping onto the grass and patting the spot next to her. 

“Very well,” Spock agreed reluctantly, nevertheless taking his place besides her. 

“The stars are so beautiful tonight,” Jen mused, looking up at the night sky. The need to be there wasn’t as prominent as it was only two and a half weeks ago. It seemed like a distant ache. “I can see them so clearly out here.” 

“I cannot,” Spock confessed. “It is difficult for me to see even the contours of your face at this time. Even more so, the stars are undetectable to me. Only the moon is visible.” 

“Do you think this moon is useful, Spock?” she asked. “It simply revolves around a small, practically meaningless planet called Earth. It holds no significance on any other planet, anywhere else in the galaxy. Anywhere else in the universe.” 

“Indeed,” Spock replied. “The stars hold greater power and value throughout the universe. They support the lives of all in the solar systems by providing energy to producers. This moon, as well as the moon of other planets, simply reflects a star’s light.” 

_I am like the moon, Spock of Vulcan,_ Jen thought, the raw ache near her heart fuelling her woeful thought. _Like the useless moon, rotating around a thriving planet, rushing around the star that is you._

“However,” Spock continued thoughtfully, “while life exists throughout the universe only due to the existence of stars, the needs of Terran life forms, including human beings, reside in the existence of the moon. It stabilises Earth’s axial tilt, and subsequently its seasons, creating climates and habitats in which specific life forms were able to evolve. It accounts for the existence of nocturnal animals. It is also important on a level individual to beings who exist on this planet. For example, at this moment, it is the only celestial object that I can see.” 

A tear streaked down Jen’s cheeks, but she did not move to brush it away. She knew that Spock was speaking literally, but God, how she wanted him to know the possible implications behind those words. To know them and acknowledge them, as if Jen were that single celestial orbit that lit up his night sky. 

“I used to look up at the night sky and think of my mother,” she told him softly. “I hoped that if she wasn’t on Earth, she was out there, somewhere, living a happy and prosperous life. Every star in the sky held a meaning to me, because every single one held the potential to be a home for her. Every single one would be visible as I explored the galaxy, sitting in or standing behind the captain’s chair aboard a starship. But now, I can’t help but notice a single star.” 

“Indeed?” Spock asked, appearing too absorbed in his own thoughts to dive deeply into her words. “It is possible that it is a planet from your solar system.” 

“Oh, I know my star charts,” Jen told him. “This is a star from a distant sky. It is beautiful and radiant and unique, and many love to search for it behind the usual, unoriginal constellations. Would it be a crime for me, as someone who loves the stars and wants to be among them, to focus on this particular star, too, would it?” 

“A star hidden behind constellations…” Spock mused thoughtfully. “I hope that you will be able to see it from the bridge of the _Enterprise_ in your many travels. 

_I can see it right now, Spock,_ Jen thought. _I don’t need to be in space to see it. It is right in front of me._

At that moment, a car honked nearby, breaking their dreamlike moment. They got up and continued walking down the field to the car, next to which T’Pring waited, obviously fuming underneath her careful mask. 

“You have not communicated with me since leaving yesterday night,” she told him angrily. “Manager Scott was the one to inform me of your departure. He had been the one waiting for me at my vehicle, as well, instead of you.” 

“I apologise,” Spock replied, sounding a little irritated. “I accompanied James T. Kirk to ensure that he was prepared sufficiently for his upcoming recordings. We would have had the opportunity to properly rehearse, had I not retreated to the forest in my attempts to escape the aggressive Terran boar.” 

“I am satisfied that all is well,” T’Pring replied, giving Jen a cold stare, as if she were somehow at fault what happened. “The boarding time of the final plane back to New York tonight is twenty two hundred. Mister Kirk, may we retreat to your uncle’s home before taking our leave?” 

“Of course,” Jen muttered, climbing into the car’s backseat. She could get her own rental on the way to the airport. 

When they entered the farmhouse, Frank was already there with a couple of his pals, no doubt waiting to show T’Pring off to them, too. Jen could only snort when none of them seemed to recognise her, either. However, she eyed them all with angry glares after noticing the particularly longing way they looked at her body. After meeting Jen’s eyes, they all looked away, embarrassed and ashamed. 

Spock left to prepare tea for the company, leaving Jen alone with T’Pring in the guestroom. To say that it was awkward would be an understatement. It was _unbearably_ awkward, as well as just painful. Jen needed to keep reminding herself that she knew nothing about the woman. It was imprudent to make snap judgements about her, like the fact that she was a conniving, icy, pretentious, stuck up, deceiving, manipulative, disloyal, _illogical_ asshole. 

“What was the topic of your conversation with Spock during your rest in the field?” she asked tonelessly. 

“The stars,” Jen responded, folding her clothes into her travel bag, which lied on the floor in front of her. 

“I see,” she commented. “Mister Kirk, I would like to make a request.” 

“What is it?” Jen asked warily. 

“Even before speaking thus, I am aware that human emotion and illogic will lead you to take offence at my words,” T’Pring began, and Jen didn’t hide her snort. ‘Human emotion and illogic’ her ass. Vulcans had their own bouts of that, Jen now knew. “However, it is simply a matter of logic and priority. Spock and I are individuals with compact schedules, which often leave no time for us to interaction or communication. It is difficult to spend undisturbed, peaceful time with one another. I understand your camaraderie with Spock. However, you often have the opportunity to be with him throughout the day, both for professional and personal reasons. While Spock’s priority during the time in which he is otherwise unoccupied is to be with me, he is too considerate of human feelings to protest when others act otherwise. Allow Spock and I the opportunity of being alone together, undisturbed by your presence.” 

Spock being considerate of human feelings? Well, that was new. Jen wanted to tell T’Pring to fuck off, and that Spock would spend time with whomever he wanted to, and that Jen wasn’t inclined to stop him from having friends. However, she _was_ girlfriend. Jen couldn’t particularly argue with T’Pring, since she was right: Jen _was_ stealing Spock away from her almost constantly, even if not on purpose. 

“Fine,” she told her. “Steal Spock back for all I care. I’m sure he’ll be relieved to spend more time with you. I’ll leave him alone.” 

“I thank you,” T’Pring responded, inclining her head. 

After the tea was served, Spock stood, turning to face them. 

“Are both of you prepared to leave to the terminal?” he asked them. Jen was about to nod, as all of her things were packed, when T’Pring’s undeniably piercing stare caught her eye. She shook her head, imperceptibly that it could be seen as a twitch. However, Vulcans seemed to twitch by freezing instead of moving. Remembering their conversation, Jen decided to backoff. 

“I’m honestly too tired to fly out now,” she lied, looking at Spock. “I’m going to stay here until tomorrow, or maybe even for a few more days, to spend more time with my uncle. I haven’t had the chance to do that lately.” 

“I am amenable to remaining with you,” Spock offered, despite T’Pring’s angry look. 

“No!” Jen said roughly. “No thanks. You go ahead. This isn’t your family or hometown.” 

“If you are sure?” he asked, still looking unconvinced. 

“Positive,” she said with a fake grin that bordered on painful. 

After Spock and T’Pring left to the space terminal, Jen sat outside on the front porch, looking up at the stars once again. For the first time in her life, she thought that maybe, there were just too many of them. 

~ 

When Spock returned with T’Pring but without Jim, Leonard could tell immediately that something was up. Spock seemed even more reluctant to talk to him and Chekov than usual. The strain in the atmosphere only increased when Jim didn’t return in the next three days. 

“What the hell did you do to him, Spock?” Leonard asked eventually, unable to handle Spock’s ridiculous stoicism and silent treatment. “Why the hell would he stay in the same town his orphanage was in unless he wanted to hide away from you?” 

“I request that you cease assuming that you have come to the correct conclusions,” Spock replied angrily. “I have not done anything to upset Jim. He simply requested time to spend with his uncle.” 

Bones didn’t believe it for a second. “Why can’t you call him, at least?” he pressed. 

“Jim will return once he is ready,” Spock said vaguely. “I am not concerned for him.” 

Well, Leonard was, so he would go and fetch Jim himself, since Spock didn’t seem to have the time of day. That same evening, he bought a plane ticket to Riverside through gritted teeth, ignored the aviophobia that started acting up, scribbled down Frank Kirk’s address, and went to get Jim. 

When he arrived at the farm, Frank told him that Jim was out running by the river a few blocks down. While Frank messaged Jim that Leonard had come to pick her up, Leonard walked towards the lake to find her. He was standing by the rushing water, overlooking the quiet countryside, when he could hear footsteps approach at a run. He turned to see Jim with a look of sheer excitement and anticipation on her face. However, as soon as she saw him, the energy seemed to drain out of her body. It broke Leonard’s heart more than just a little, but he understood what she was feeling. He walked towards her frozen form slowly. 

“Did you mistake me for Spock from a distance?” he asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’m sorry that I’m not him. He said you’d return when you needed to, but I’m here to make sure that you’re okay and promptly drag you back home.” 

Jim didn’t respond. She averted her eyes, chewing her bottom lip in nervousness and tapping her foot slightly. When she looked back at Leonard, he could see the obvious hesitation in her eyes. 

“Or,” he began seriously, “you don’t have to return to New York. If it’s becoming too stressful for you there and in StarKid, you can stay in Riverside, or maybe go somewhere else from here. It’s all up to you. Like I told you before, with the recording business, I’m only here to support you.” 

“Some aspects of life with StarKid are difficult, yes,” Jim confessed, “but when I think of quitting, I only think of myself. I’m sorry. If I leave, I’m screwing over StarKid, Scotty, Sulu, and so many other people, who are looking up to me and needing me to work my hardest. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you think that I’m quitting. I’m not. I can endure this.” 

The conflict in her voice made Leonard want to gather her to his chest and run his fingers through her hair until he could sooth all of her worries away. He had no idea that she was going through such hardships with StarKid, and he felt completely disappointed at himself for thinking of burdening her with the knowledge of his feelings for her. 

“What can I do to help you when things get difficult, Jim?” he asked. 

“Just… please put up with me, even if I’m being a shitty friend,” she said with a sigh. “I suck at things like that sometimes.” 

Leonard nodded. It was the only thing he could do. 

~ 

Spock was practising in a piano room when Chekov burst in, appearing completely out of breath. 

“Jim has returned!” he exclaimed, jumping into the air with a raised fist. “He is already recording ‘Without Words.’ He is so dedicated, yes? Spock, let’s go watch him!” 

Spock nodded, following. Even though he had not made any personal attempts to contact Jen, the trepidation had been growing within him. He did not recall having offended her, but it was possible that she had kept her unpleasant feelings from him, despite him accidentally causing them within her. He wished to apologise, if that were the case. 

As he and Chekov entered the studio, the producer’s cut called Jen’s voice to a halt. Spock understood the cause: Jen’s voice had been too weak at the start of the piece. Hopefully, her second attempt would be more successful. 

Spock stopped at the centre of the studio for a better view of Jen’s whole figure. He turned to face her, experiencing a brief moment of shock, when her blazing eyes met his immediately. 

Not breaking eye contact, she began to sing. 

“ _It’s something, but I can’t say so._

“ _I’ll just pretend I don’t know._

“ _It’s something you cannot see._

“ _It’s a feeling within me that… you will…_

“ _Never know, even if you try._

“ _And if I had run away,_

“ _It wouldn’t have happened today._

“ _I’ll just pretend I don't hear_

“ _This heart that beats for you each time… you’re near…_

“ _I hope this love will disappear._

“ _Without a word, you showed me how your love is true._

“ _Without a word, I’ve given my love to you._

“ _And now that I’m like this, holding on to my breath,_

“ _You quickly stole my heart and left._

“ _Without a word, you left me crying alone._

“ _Without a word, I’ll forget you on my own._

“ _But now that you are back, I just down know_

“ _Why it’s so hard to let you go,_

“ _So I won’t say a word._

“ _Do you feel the pain I feel?_

“ _Do you see the love I see?_

“ _Could it all be in my mind?_

“ _Maybe we’re not meant to be… but why…_

“ _Do I feel you’ll be here with me?_

“ _Without a word, you showed me how your love is true._

“ _Without a word, I’ve given my love to you._

“ _And now that I’m like this, holding on to my breath,_

“ _You quickly stole my heart and left._

“ _Without a word, you left me crying alone._

“ _Without a word, I’ll forget you on my own._

“ _But now that you are back, I just down know_

“ _Why it’s so hard to let you go._

“ _Without a word, my tears have all fallen._

“ _Without a word, you have left my heart broken…_

“ _Without a word, I will keep waiting for you._

“ _Without a word, I will make you love me, too._

“ _But if you were like this, and if I were to leave,_

“ _Would I ever be truly missed?_

“ _Without goodbyes, he will turn and leave my side_

“ _Without knowing how much I truly love him._

“ _It’s something I’ll endure, even though I’m unsure._

“ _I have prepared myself to love without a single word._

“ _Without a word, I will love you._

“ _Without a word, I will miss you._

“ _This love I long to have,_

“ _I wish I could show you somehow… but is…_

“ _It too late to let you know now?_ ” 

Cheers erupted in the recording room from the entire crew. They were completely enamoured by the brilliancy of Jen’s performance. Spock stood in shock, unable to move. Jen’s stunning voice was still ringing in his ears, flowing through his mind, and squeezing his heart, when suddenly, he noticed the shed tears that began to streak down Jen’s face. 

Jen averted her eyes, removed her microphone and earphones, and fled the studio. Spock’s eyes followed her, but he stayed in place. He could feel McCoy’s angry glare on his face, but Spock could not comprehend it. After two point three two seconds of pointedly looking at him, Leonard emitted a growl of frustration and rushed after Jen. 

Spock did not understand. However, because the inevitable emotional turmoil prevented him from logically deciphering the nature of the situation, he followed McCoy outside, accelerating to a jog. 

Wrapped in his arms, Jen was crying softly into McCoy’s shoulder. Spock watched, lost in the pounding of his own rapid heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Боже мой_ means "Oh my god" in Russian, and _да_ means "yes."
> 
> This is where I learned the names and natures of the Vulcan _[norsehlat](http://memory-beta.wikia.com/wiki/Norsehlat)_ and _[sa-te kru](http://memory-beta.wikia.com/wiki/Sa-te_kru)_.
> 
> 'Without Words' is an actual, original song written for You're Beautiful that Jen's character sings. The rhyming translation is brilliantly made by the creator of [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xmJDaDXKwM&spfreload=10) video, thankfully, because I couldn't have done something like that. I edited the sentence structure and some words to make it flow better with the meter, but it is mainly this YouTuber's translation. I really wish there a video as emotional and heart-wrenching as this one made for Jim (Jen) and Spock to this song.
> 
> This is the last chapter that I have written, so it may be awhile before I post the next one. However, I will actually work on this work now. Once again, I am in desperate need of a beta! Please comment if you can take that responsibility for me! (I am not one of those fans who has other fan friends and people to go to to be interested in reading their work. I'm all alone here, ahh!!)


	8. Chapter 8

“Poor girl,” Manager Scott murmured, coming up to stand next to Spock. “It’s all my fault, really.” 

“You caused Jen such emotional distress?” Spock asked, whirling on the Scotsman. “Did anything occur prior to the recording session that might have caused her such undue pain?” 

“I told her to think about love that she might have felt herself and be unapologetic about letting them burst,” he explained. Spock recalled Jen feeling dissatisfied with the latter requirement of the recording. “She said she hadn’t experienced such a love before, but here she is, crying her heart out. Look at the way she seeks Leonard’s comfort. I had no idea that she had feelings for him.” 

Spock did not reply to the absurd speculation, however, because in that moment, Jen lifted her face to him, and their eyes met once again. This time, they held briefly, before Jen untangled herself from McCoy’s arms and fled once again. Spock followed swiftly, compelled by what appeared to be an internal force within him, but a powerful grip on his forearm held him back. 

“Don’t follow him, Spock,” McCoy said in a low voice. “He needs to be a alone for now.” 

Spock eyed McCoy warily. If he so wished, he would be able to break McCoy’s grip with a single motion of his arm. However, he resisted. There would be another opportunity to speak with Jen, when she required his company instead of solace. 

“Jim is simply stressed after over-feeling and overexpressing himself for that recording,” McCoy said to Scott, who had come to stand with them. “The expectation you two have for him are completely absurd. Given a break, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“He didn’t say anything else?” Scott asked suspiciously. 

“Only that recording his first piece was putting him under a lot of stress,” McCoy responded. With a final look at Spock, he left them, heading in the direction of the studio. 

“He doesn’t seem to be aware of Jen’s crush, does he?” Scott said, relieved. “It’s for the best for McCoy: the fact that he does not know her true gender might be a small problem. But what do we do for Jen, Spock?” 

“Jen’s emotions or romantic regards are none of my concern, Manager Scott,” Spock replied bitterly. 

“You really won’t help me or her out in this?” Scott asked in frustration. “I thought you were getting along with her! Don’t you care about her emotional and mental well-being?” 

“I am convinced that her emotional and mental well-being is sound, Manager,” Spock responded, walking away. Spock was convinced that Scott’s concern for Jen was misplaced. Romantic attachment between Jen and McCoy was likely, and hopefully, nonexistent. 

~ 

Jen sat behind the Star Agency offices on a park bench, mulling over what had just happened. She had been unable to keep her emotions in check for the song. Quite frankly, what she had tried to do in the previous takes to avoid that disaster was refusing to think of Spock. She had known that this would happen, and yet she had not been able to do anything about it. 

She just wished she could disappear, could be swallowed up with the earth around her. If Jen wished hard enough, she could be made invisible, couldn’t she? Why didn't the universe give human beings that particular power? 

"Jim!" Chekov called to her left. Good job to her for being invisible. 

"Pasha, you can still see me right?" she asked, as he came to sit by her on the bench. 

"You have not been transported anywhere, so yes, I can," he said, smiling friendlily at her. 

"Why can't I just disappear and avoid the curious stares, the questions of my well-being, and the utter embarrassment?" Jen asked, semi-rhetorically. 

"You can't disappear. I won’t allow it, since we are about to go out and celebrate your first recording!" Chekov said excitedly. 

"You really love parties and celebration, don't you, Pasha?" she asked, leaning into him. "Just another excuse for secret, underage drinking on your part?" 

"Giving congratulations to those who deserve it is one of my favourite activities!" Pasha exclaimed, pulling her up onto her feet by her arms. "I know you're feeling down right now, so I'm going to take you somewhere you can cry to your heart's content without anyone watching you." 

And what had Chekov meant by that? A Russian kitchen in New York, where Chekov and Jen watched the cooks cut onions for the borscht that they were preparing. 

"You know, I always thought I was immune to onions, but now I'm not so sure," Jen muttered, unable to keep the stinging sensation from her eyes. What if the tears that were caused by onions turned into another wave of Spock-related distress? 

After gorging her pained heart out on bread, soups, and pies, which were incredibly unhealthy yet incredibly heavenly, they went out for Italian gelato. Ice cream was secretly a weakness of Jen's. Food in general, especially sweets, was one her greatest addictions. She didn't know whether exercising was helping keep her shape, since she made sure to work out every day anyways. She wasn't about to stop to find out. 

When she was in a bad mood, which was almost always these past few weeks, her appetite disappeared. Forcing herself to eat became more difficult than tedious. Without Chekov being here, Jen wouldn't be running out and about New York City. She would have remained sitting on the bench, trying to be invisible. 

"You've had your crying now," Chekov said, wincing at his brain freeze. Jen was trying to breathe steadily through hers. "Now we're going out for laughs." 

"What do you have in mind?" she asked. 

"Well, I'd suggest a casino, but they always see through my fake ID," he confessed. "Apparently they get enough of those to tell the difference. Instead, let's go to the arcade!" 

At the arcade, Jen truly had a wonderful time. She suspected that she would have loved these even more as a kid, but there had never been arcades in the orphanage or even in Riverside. Her first few games of air hockey were complete flops, but she managed to gain skill quickly. By the end of the hour, Jen and Chekov managed to play an impressive game, with Jen finally beating him. 

It was getting dark when they finally emerged, laughing and decorated with plastic pinkie rings and necklaces, thanks to all the tickets that they won between the two of them. 

"For the grandiose ending, I will take you to my special bus," Chekov said importantly. 

"Your special bus?" she asked curiously, as Pavel led her to a bus station. "What is it?" 

"It's Bus 101, the last bus in the city, which circuits around it for an hour around this time," he explained. "No one ever gets on it after it arrives here at twenty three hundred, and it stays empty for the entire ride. It circles back here at twenty four hundred, and then returns to the main bus station. Look! Here it is." 

Jen followed Chekov onto the bus, unsure of what the purpose of riding an empty bus around for an hour was. Like Chekov had said, no one else was aboard. 

"Whenever I'm depressed, I take a ride here," Chekov explained softy. "The one hour here allows my feelings to revert back to normal, making me my happy self once again. I know that you're sad, Jim. You can feel free to feel your feelings here, where there’s no one to judge you. Hopefully, the bus helps rocks your feelings away. I'll sit in the back to feel my own, while you remain here. I will meet you in an hour?" 

"Agreed," Jen said, looking straight ahead as the bus began to move. She thought of Spock, and of his piercing grey eyes, trying to will the bittersweetness away. Soon enough, the peaceful humm of the electric engine lulled Jen to sleep. 

~ 

"I'm sorry for running out so dramatically and then disappearing for the whole day, Scotty," she told the Scotsman later that evening. "I just needed to get out of here and take my mind off of things." 

"I understand, Jen," Scotty said sympathetically. "I have my fair share of romantic issues, too. You don't have to talk about it, but you need to control them somehow." 

"I _do_ control them!" Jen exclaimed indignantly. "Well, most of the time. Whenever I'm not thinking about... things." 

"Exactly, Jen," Scotty pointed out. "You need to work with your feelings to make good recordings, not keep them bottled up inside. But when you express them, it'll benefit to come up with a plan that's less noticeable than running out in tears." 

"You make it sound like I do that every single day," Jen muttered. "Christ, what an incompetent cadet I was, to not have a cap on my emotions like that." 

"I'm sure being aboard a starship will be more comfortable for you than what you're doing with us," Scotty said. "But here, I have a suggestion for how to deal with feelings, when they get too overwhelming." 

"Scotty, you make it sound like you're some big love expert, when we all know that you're not getting any with Uhura," Jen pointed out. 

"Wha- wh- that's not even in question right now!" Scotty sputtered, but then gathered himself with a deep inhale. "But Jen, that's exactly the point. I'm an expert at being rejected by beautiful women, and I'm an expert in pining after them. So I can help you with your longing, too." 

"I see," Jen said thoughtfully. It actually made sense. "So, what do you do when you're trying not to bawl and spill tears all over your shirt?" 

"Well, don't think I'm an idiot or anything, but I just widen my eyes in a desperate attempt to rid them of any moistness," Scotty said, looking embarrassed. “It makes me concentrate on something else and triggers blinking, which automatically forces the tearing up to stop.” 

"And that actually works for you?" Jen asked suspiciously. "How about you demonstrate?" 

A bit reluctantly, Scotty looked at Jen, widening his eyes, until they looked like fucking saucers. It was pretty terrifying and depressing at the same time. 

"You look like a kicked puppy left in the rain," Jen commented. 

"Maybe so, but it works well for a time," Scotty said. "I'm telling you, just do it when your feelings get too overwhelming. Instant remedy for getting your crush at of your head.” 

There was no way that Jen was going to act so idiotically. 

Thankfully, since Frank had stayed behind in Riverside, Jen had gotten her own room back. It was a relief, since it meant that she didn't have to stare longingly at Spock at every given opportunity, or fight the impulse of ruffling up his hair to give him that adorable look. However, when she was preparing for bed, he buzzed himself into her room later that day, demanding entrance. 

It was the first time that she saw him since spilling her feelings out to him via song, which she wasn’t sure he had even realised. He was dressed in lighter sleeping robes, and his hair was combed back as immaculately as always. Seeing him immediately made her heart beat faster, so she just couldn't help it. She widened her eyes and lifted her eyebrows, focusing on that instead of the feelings that seemed to choke her. 

Spock stopped walking, tilting his head in contemplation. 

"For purpose are you staring at me so intently? From my understanding of Terran canines, it is quite similar to the imploring gaze they utilise to gain the favour of their owners." 

"What?" Jen asked, aghast. "You think I look like a dog?" 

"Or a cat,” he agreed contemplatively. “I believe there is much literature on the feline dressed in human footwear with their power of making anyone submit to the begging that their eyes imply.” 

"Oh my God, you’re making fun of me,” Jen whispered in shock. “You of me, not the other way around.” 

“The reason you must be so dangerous, Miss Jennifer T. Kirk, is because of your uncanny similarity to both _norsehlat_ and the _sa-te kru_ ,” Spock continued as if she had not spoken, playing off of their less serious conversations in the woods. “ _Sa-tehlat._

“What?" she asked incredulously, barely following the line of thinking of Spock’s unexpecting jokes. 

"A perfect moniker for you," Spock responded. “A portmanteau for the _norsehlat_ and _sa-te kru_.” 

"You’re giving me a _nickname_?” she asked, stunned. “It's not a very flattering nickname. 

"My responsibility is not to provide you with flattery, but to provide you with the truth," Spock responded matter-of-factly. 

"Fine," she said. "Completely blow everyone’s minds when you start calling me by a pet name - literally, a _pet. Name _\- in public. Did you want to say anything, when you came in?"__

"Indeed," Spock responded. "After your escape from Star offices earlier today, Manager Scott confided in me, asking me to assist him with devising a plan to ease your emotional distress. While I declined, I feel compelled, as your friend and temporary colleague, to offer a semblance of advice. I have been devising a plan that may ease your revelation of the truth of your gender to Leonard." 

"Um, why would I need to do that?" she asked, her brain not catching up. What was Spock talking about? 

"The object of your romantic attentions has the right to know factors that you deem important parts of your identity," Spock pointed out. "When Scott revealed the truth of your interest in Leonard, it surprised me. However, upon further consideration, I have come to agree with his assessment. Your emotional outburst after your recording, as well as your strengthening relationship with him, both support it." 

For a supposed Vulcan genius and mind reader, Spock didn’t seem to know anything at all. 

"Did you possibly consider asking me before making these crazy assumptions?” Jen asked, slightly amused. “Scotty probably has screwdrivers instead of brains, and we both know that you don’t specialise in either in romance or people-reading. I don't like Bones that way." 

"That seems unlikely, _Sa-tehlat_ ," Spock said admonishingly, as if Jen were lying to him. "However, even if you are speaking truthfully, this chart will prove useful in the case that you wish to reveal yourself to him as a friend." 

Spock handed her a piece of paper, which she tried but failed to understand, no matter which way she turned it. It looked like a personalised game of tic-tac-toe. The left-side column contained the names Leonard McCoy, James T. Kirk, and Spock of Vulcan. The top row contained the options of 'Accept' and 'Does not accept'. Bones had an x for both; Jen had an o for accept and an x for does not; Spock had an o for both. 

"What does it mean?" she asked. 

"While the o represents positive results, the x represents the negative," Spock explained. "If Leonard reacts positively to your confession of your identity, you resort to honesty in your friendship, while I will no longer be your only source of comfort in the result of your difficulties here. However, Leonard will be faced with the your constant clumsiness and attachment, adding stress and difficulty to your life. If Leonard's reaction to your confession is negative, your distress will increase, due to the lack of acceptance from someone close to you. However, as you are capable of transforming others' opinions of you into positive ones, you will be able to convince Leonard to accept you, making his life difficult once again. My own personal life will be left with the solitude that I require." 

"You really thought this through, haven't you?" she asked, not taking offence at Spock's obvious insults or reluctance to spend time with her. "You make it sound like I'm the biggest burden the universe has ever known." 

"It is indeed tiring, on occasion, to be in your presence, _Se-tehlat_ ," Spock said, but Jen could see the joking glint in his eyes. This stubborn Vulcan was gaining a sense of humour, all thanks to her. 

"Your annoying _Se-tehlat_ requires rest," she pointed out teasingly. "Quite frankly, it is quite tiring to be in _your_ presence as well, Mister Spock." 

"Indeed?" Spock asked, making his way towards the door. "I will consider your words. I bid you goodnight, _Sa-tehlat_." 

When he left, Jen breathed out a sigh. Scott had completely misunderstood everything, and Spock had believed him. Even though he didn't press the matter of romance between her and Bones, he was under the impression that the ex-doctor was the person she wanted to confide in, to spend the most time with. She wanted to take Spock's face into her hands, look into his eyes, and tell him how completely off the mark he was. But she couldn't, because he thought of her as an annoying little girl, _and_ he was committed to another. In fact, it was relieving to Jen that he had completely missed the fact that she was in love with him, not Bones. It stopped things from becoming incredibly awkward between them. 

When Bones buzzed into her room to make sure she was doing okay, Jen quickly crumpled the paper, trying to keep it from view. 

"If you're gonna hide something, hide it better," Bones told her, prying the paper gently from Jen's reluctant fingers, only to re-fold it and place it on her desk. There was no important information scrawled on it, thankfully, so he wouldn’t be able to learn her secret from just that. 

"Thanks," Jen muttered awkwardly. 

"For someone with so much brain, you're really clumsy," he said. "You know, I once knew a girl who was really clumsy and often oblivious; she tried to hide a big secret from me. But it was difficult, and I and some of her other friends eventually discovered it. 

"I was really curious about her. It was a shocking feeling that I never expected, mixed with a need to protect her. So after watching her apathetically for a while, I didn’t know what to do besides help her with whatever she needed. The relationship we had was quite different from the one with my ex-wife. I don't have much luck with women, huh?" 

"Why couldn't you just tell her, you know, that you liked her or whatever?" Jen asked, trying to focus on his story through stifled yawns and drooping eyelids. 

"I didn't want her to feel scared around me," Bones told her. "I didn’t want her to think that she couldn’t trust me, that I would give the secret away to someone powerful." 

After Bones left for the night, too, Jen stumbled to bed, thinking over what Bones said. He cared too much, probably as doctors usually did. Telling him about her situation would just burden him with someone else’s problems. She couldn't do that to him. 

~ 

Spock attempted to compose after returning to his room. However, more than one train of thought was not currently distracted from the task at hand. Instead, his mind mainly revolved around the _Se-tehlat_ that was Jen Kirk. 

As Spock had told her, Jen's wide-eyed expression closely resembled that of an abandoned Terran pup. her piercing blue eyes had the power to make anyone sympathise with her, which was the effect that said creatures had Spock, despite his reluctance to admit it. 

He had not confessed so to Jen during their walk to the village in Riverside, but Spock found Jen dangerously similar to the creatures in another way, as well. Like they had in Spock's childhood, Jen brought out inexplicable, inevitable, warm feelings within him. 

Spock would not have believed anyone, had they told him that he would become one for nicknames. However, as illogical as his feelings for Jen were, the name was oddly fitting. 

In the privacy of his own quarters, Spock was unable to continue to feign calmness and approval at the prospect of Jen being in love with McCoy. Eventually, Spock would have to admit to himself that the most overwhelming emotion within him was jealousy. 

Her feelings had overflown in the presence of McCoy, as Scott had explained. She had denied her feelings towards the ex-doctor, but it was possible that she was unwilling to admit them, as humans so often were. When Jen spoke of the accident she had caused in her inebriated state, had she spoken of her developing emotions? Now, her emotions would lead her to revealing the truth to McCoy. Spock was able neither to decipher his jealousy, nor to explain himself properly to Jen. 

However, at that moment, he received a message from her via PADD. 

**_> >I'm not gonna tell Bones. Please don't rat me out._**

Despite the guilt that accompanied his ensuing emotions, Spock was satisfied with the results. Satisfaction was illogical, as both Jen and Spock would receive benefit from her confession to McCoy. However, something compelled Spock to be pleased that the secret remained only between the two of you. 

**_> >I just realised that none of my stuff is in my room. It's all in yours. I'm too tired to move it, so can I crash in yours tonight?_**

**_> >Indeed._**

When Spock left the piano room to return to his quarters, he found Jen already there, buried underneath her usual pile of blankets. 

"You have reprogrammed the voice code in my quarters once again?" Spock asked, more amused than either surprised or displeased. 

"Yeah, the day you fell asleep with the lights on, so that I could order the computer to turn it off with my voice, too," Jen explained, her voice muffled, as she spoke into her pillows. “It was difficult for me to fall asleep that night, so.” 

"This is an example of the difficulties and inconvenience which you cause me," Spock informed her. "Are you aware of this?" 

He was granted with an inaudible reply. 

"Please repeat your statement," he requested. 

"Stop being a dick!" Jen yelled at him from across the room, causing the corners of Spock's mouth to twitch up involuntarily. 

Before he cleared his mind entirely for much needed mediation, he glanced at Jen's sleeping form one last time. 

~ 

The recording of the piece of course wasn't the only mountain Jen had to cross. The biggest one of all would be the recording of the music video that accompanied it, especially since Scotty suggested for Spock and T'Pring two play the video’s two leads. 

In his version of the perfect video, they would be top secret, CIA-level, spy killers, who would jet around the world together, killing evil assassins. Sulu vetoed the idea immediately, accusing it of not having enough romance. 

"Just because you get to travel abroad, shoot guns, and blow stuff up, it doesn't mean that it's good!" he had shouted at the cowering Scotty. 

Uhura suggested an erotic love story, which consisted of lots of really passionate and more-than-slightly revealing make out sessions on velvety beds of roses, the description of which made Jen feel something between disgust and irrational glee. It would have been fun to watch two Vulcans completely embarrass themselves by acting out the more intimate parts of their relationship, the way humans like to do. 

"Two Vulcans would never agree to that, and it's too unoriginal," Sulu argued. "I want something new, something fresh. What do you think about a first love between two high school students, a love that comes and goes without a word?" 

And thus, Jen and Spock, who both had a role in the video, found themselves on set outside of a miscellaneous high school, dressed like ridiculous schoolboys in rich kid private school uniforms, the likes of which Jen had never even seen before. 

"Please feel free to remain with me in T'Pring's presence," Spock told her. 

"No," Jen said curtly. It would be a) awkward b) an emotional suicide and c) a really dangerous stunt, since T'Pring would probably stab her with a high-heeled boot for not following her orders. 

"I insist," Spock said. "You are my friend, Jen. The time I spend with you is important to me." 

Jen stared at him as he walked on set for what was probably a couple of minutes, before running to catch up. Who was she to completely disregard a statement like that? 

The start of the shooting of the video went pretty well, just as to be expected. Spock, Jen, and some extras - guys who roamed about as other high school students - did brief shoots without any singing that would incorporated into the music video. After a shoot in the classroom, however, things went a little awry. 

"I have noticed one of the extra actors looking in your direction eleven times in the last minute minute," Spock told her, coming over to the back of the classroom, where she had been instructed to sit. "He is the individual currently in the front left corner of the room." 

Jen looked at the guy. He seemed slightly familiar, as if she had known him vaguely in her adolescence. He looked like one of her brother's friends outside from outside of the orphanage, one with whom he often went out biking on makeshift motorcycles that he put together himself from pieces of junk. Jen had gone biking sometimes, too, but unlike her brother, she hadn’t wanted to have a record, or be a delinquent or repeat offender. She had seen this guy a few times. She even remembered having conversations with him, but no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn't remember his name. 

"I'm blanking on his name," she told Spock, becoming more panicked. "I know I should probably go talk to him, since Jim would, but I can't remember his name. Spock, what do I do? Jim would remember his fucking name!" 

"Jen, I will assist you in discovering his name," Spock promised seriously. "I will simply ask." 

"He'll probably think it's weird that you're asking," she said. 

"I will assume the appearance that only I am aware of his attentiveness towards you," Spock told her. "I, as your friend, hold the right to be simply curious." 

"You’ll be lying left and right, Spock," Jen said, a mixture of awe and disappointment. On the one hand, it was crazy to observe how much of a rebel Spock was turning into, just for Jen. On the other hand, sweet and innocent Spock was Jen's secret weakness. 

She watched as he approached her brother's friend gingerly, talking with him for less than a minute before returning. She tried to keep her head down to keep the guy from noticing that she was in on Spock's plan. She couldn't help but notice how the guy kept looking over Spock's shoulder at her, though. When Spock turned back towards her, she looked away, pretending to be completely oblivious to what was going on. 

"His name is Gary Mitchell, and he claims to be one of your brother's closest childhood friends," Spock told her. Jen blinked. Gary Mitchell! Of course. The guy her brother probably slept with quite a few times when they were teenagers. 

The guy her brother slept with. Oh shit. This was bad. 

"Spock," she said nervously, trying to keep her voice in check. She failed. It sounded like it came from someone else. 

"Is there a problem?" he asked immediately. 

"I think my brother had a… special relationship with him," she said quietly, afraid to look Spock in the eye. 

"Ah," Spock commented softly. Jen looked over, and was shocked to see his ridiculous Vulcan smirk. The bastard was laughing at her! 

"This isn't funny, Spock!" she hissed, hitting his shoulder roughly. "I'm not _sure_ if he slept with him. And if he _did_ , that gives me ideas of how Jim would act right this moment. And what if they didn't sleep together? In that case, they would probably still be acting like old pals. What the hell do I do, huh?" 

"Is there substantial evidence to support the hypothesis that they were, in fact, sexually involved?" Spock asked seriously. 

"Well, my brother is bi. And, I don’t mean this is an attribute of his sexuality, but he could sleep with pretty much anything, including farm animals," she stopped, admiring the look of pure horror on Spock's stricken face. "That's a joke. But anyways, he was quite promiscuous when we were in our older teen years, to be quite honest, and he used to be Gary's whole world. It's kind of sad to talk about, but you could always see the affection in Gary's eyes, where you can only see lust in Jim's. I can't blame Jim, since you can't help with whom you do or don't fall in love with. But still. I think Jim would be embarrassed to talk to him, but he still would, you know? Because he's a good person, who wants to mend even his most fucked up relationships. Like me." 

"I see," Spock said, appearing thoughtful. "In that instance, I advise you to speak with him." 

Jen approached Gary warily, hiding her hands in her pockets and bowing her head in slight embarrassment. 

"Hi, Gary," she said warily. He whirled around, gaping. 

"Jimmy," he said in a breath, as if seeing her was the most amazing thing in the world. He pulled her into an enormous bear hug. "And here I was, thinking that you didn't recognise me. Or worse, that you felt like you were too famous to talk to the likes of me." 

"I didn't see you, that's all," she said. Hopefully, she wouldn't give herself away with her speech or any of her questions. "How have you been? Are you into acting now?" 

"Well, I didn't exactly apply for university," he said. "I was supplied when you did, but you _were_ always a talented singer. I've been dabbling in acting for the past two years, but I want to apply for Starfleet." 

Jen almost choked. "Are you serious? You need to be, um, quite qualified for that." 

"Oh, I am," he assured her. "Don't you remember that you were the one who suggested applying to me? I have a high school diploma, and I had graduated with top marks. I probably could have gotten into a good university. I just also have a slight record." 

"I guess so," she said. He was like Jim, and Jim could have also gotten into Starfleet, had he tried. But no matter how much Jen had tried to convince him, he had resisted with all of his might. 

"Wait, Jim!" Gary suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jen's right arm and pulling it towards her. "You don't have your scar from the biking accident anymore!" 

"Oh yeah, well, you know how expensive surgery was for me, because of the orphanage," Jen lied, thinking up an excuse. "I only had the opportunity to surgically remove it now." 

"But you told me that you never wanted to remove it, even if you got famous," Gary said, confused. "You said it was like the battle scars people keep." 

"Things change, Gary," she told him. "I can't afford to have any blemishes on my skin anymore." 

She felt bad to lie so blatantly to Gary, though. Like her brother, her scars she wore with pride. If she actually had the scar on the inside of her arm from an accident, she wouldn't have gotten rid of it. It was upsetting to have to create such false stories about the person Jim was while impersonating him, since they weren't true in the least. 

"I understand, Jim, honestly," he said, albeit in poorly concealed disappointment. "But hey! It's bathroom break, anyways, and I need to take a leak. Let's go together, for old time's sake! Let's have a pissing contest, like the one we had as kids!" 

"I think I've grown out of pissing contests," Jen muttered, trying not to feel nervous about the whole thing. 

"Oh, try not to be the wuss that I know you secretly are," Gary said, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. Before he had the opportunity to drag her away completely, she shot a look at Spock, who was still watching them carefully from a distance. After noticing the apparently desperate look on her face, he quickly followed them. He caught up as soon as they reached the restroom, and Jen could see the understanding yet displeasure etched on his face. 

"Distract him!" she mouthed obviously over Gary's shoulder, aiming her pleading baby blues at Spock, to which even he wasn't immune. Spock followed them inside, settling behind a urinal on Gary's left side, while Jen remained to his right, looking lost. 

"Mister Mitchell, as you are a participating actor in a StarKid music video, you must be familiar to the music we choose to perform," Spock said suddenly, forcing Gary to look at him. 

"Well, honestly, I'm just here to dabble in acting, and because of Jim," Gary said thoughtfully. "I don't know any of StarKid's pieces well enough." 

"Indeed not?" Spock asked. "However, you will surely recognise 'Promise.’" 

Spock began to sing, which almost stopped Jen in her non-peeing. Spock going full out with his vocals was not something she ever thought she would witness However, here it was, happening before her very eyes. Gary joined in in a moment, humming along the tune relatively well to Spock's soft, spot-on pitches. Jen took this as the excuse to 'finish up,’ all the while completely avoiding looking in their direction, to avoid seeing anything that might count as traumatic. 

After the break, they were filming a miscellaneous lunch scene. It was all really chill, thankfully, with no particular acting instruction besides peacefully sitting or eating in character, since these clips would be covered by the recording of ‘Without Words.’ They were allowed to converse normally as they ate their respective lunches at the table. 

The best part of this scene was the real cooked food that was offered to the actors. For the sake of the music video, Jen had to resist gobbling it up in seconds. 

"Frankly, I find it funny that I get to eat raw fish right now, while you're simply left eating anchovies," she told Spock through a mouthful. "In real life, you are so much richer than me. But now here you are, acting as the poor boy who can’t afford meat. A twist of fate!" 

"It would have been more profitable and less extraneous to simply animate these miscellaneous portions of the music video," Spock said bitterly, not even considering touching his anchovies. The producers of the video had refused to give Spock’s character something that fell within Spock’s own diet. 

"You know, as the leader of StarKid, I would think that you had some kind of say in that," Jen pointed out. "You know what I think? I think that you're just jealous, since you're both poor temporarily and vegetarian permanently, which means you can't try my raw fish." 

"Due to my dietary needs, experiencing jealousy at not being able to consume such a Terran food is illogical," Spock pointed out. 

"Raw fish reminds me of your sister, Jim," mentioned Gary, who was in the sequence with them and thus was having his meal with them. "Do you remember how she always asked to stop at Asian markets and that one sushi place whenever she went out with us, since it was too expensive for the orphanage to supply?" 

"Of course I remember," Jen bit back. In reality, though, she wasn't sure if Jim would. "I'm her brother. What's your excuse?" 

"How could I forget?" he asked in surprise. "I've been loving raw fish ever since! I make sure to stop by the Asian market quite often." 

"Does your interest in the dietary preference of Jennifer T. Kirk hold underlying romantic underlying?" Spock asked Gary curiously. Jen threw him a completely disbelieving look, but he only continued to stare at Gary. She looked over, with horror noticing his spreading blush. 

"Since this is the first time anyone has brought this up, I guess it's the perfect time to confess," he muttered bashfully. "Jim, forgive me, but I've always had the hots for your sister. She's so fucking clever, and interested in bikes and engineering, too. God, even after four years, she makes my heart go wild." 

Uh-hu. So much that he couldn't even recognise her, sitting in front of him. But still, Jen could barely believe what she was hearing. So she had completely misinterpreted everything that she had seen in their eyes? Or was Gary just some guy, who had absolutely no boundaries, who fucked with one sibling and fell in love with another? 

"I'm sorry to break it to you, Gary, but Jen doesn't and will never be interested in you," she said seriously. What was the point in leading him on? 

"That's not what you said last time we talked about her!" Gary responded, looking hurt. "I just didn't tell you that I took your suggestion to heart. Spock, you know Jen?" 

"I am indeed acquainted with her," Spock replied passively. 

"Isn't she absolutely great?" he asked dreamily. "One of the reasons I'm joining Starfleet is to find her, and maybe start things off with her, you know?" 

"Don't waste your time, Mitchell," Jen warned him. "Jen's getting married to a decorated Starfleet captain right now. I'm sorry, but you missed your chance. After talking about you with her a few years ago, I realised that you two never had anything upon which you can build a relationship. She's taken, so you should just back off." 

"She's taken for good?" Gary asked sadly. "Ah, well, I always knew in the back of my mind that she wouldn't go for a fuck-up like me. It'll be good to see her, at least." 

"I'm sorry," she muttered feeling instantly guilty. She put a comforting hand in his shoulder. "You're not a fuck-up, Gary. Just sometimes, opportunities are missed, and things don't go the way you want them to. I know that from personal experience, believe me." 

Later in the day, while they were shooting an outdoor scene, Spock saddled up to her, a contemplative expression on his face. 

"I was unaware of your engagement to a decorated Starfleet officer," he commented. "I am disappointed in your lack of trust in me. However, since an invitation has not been sent, I now demand that you send a holovid of your wedding banquet." 

"There's no fiancé, and there's no wedding, Spock. I-" Jen stopped, seeing the obvious mirth in Spock's eyes. "You're teasing me, you bastard!" 

Since the scene called for friendly interaction, Jen scooped up some leaves, which lied fallen on the pavement, and threw them as effectively as possible. Some fluttered down uselessly, while some for stuck on his school uniform. Some even landed on his head, slightly messing up his usually immaculate bowl cut. 

"Your actions are inappropriate," he said gruffly, swiping the leaves away from his person. Jen only responded by throwing and kicking more in his direction. 

With a menacing glint in his eyes, Spock crouched to the ground, never taking his eyes off of Jen. It was such an unexpected motion that she completely froze in place, tracking in his movements. He looked completely focused, with his eyes dark and predatory. It was so inappropriately hot, but hot nevertheless, that her heart felt trapped in her throat, and her breathing got heavier. However, her hesitation gave him the opportunity to gather handfuls of leaves and start catapulting them at her. 

Jen was so struck at the unexpected leaf fight that she was only able to retaliate after she she had already become a complete leafy mess. Spock stopped, probably realising that there was no way she would be able to win now. He stared at her with a raised eyebrow and a slight quirk of his lips. He looked so relieved and happy that her heart started pounding even harder. Most of all, he looked beautiful. Her eyes widened comically as soon as she felt the pent up emotions building within her. 

"You are once again imitating a youthful canine?" Spock asked her, raising an eyebrow. 

"Are you worried that I'm mocking you?" Jen asked, blinking her wide eyes. It had sort of transformed into a coping mechanism for Spock's cuteness, sexiness, and simple existence. 

"Negative," Spock responded, looking slightly hurt. "I am _convinced_ that you are mocking me. The matter is not in question." 

"Oh, Spock," Jen sighed, coming up to stand in front of him. She brushed the leaves from his shoulders. "I'm not mocking. The most I would ever do is teasing, okay?" 

If only he knew the true Spock-feelings that were brewing within her right now. 

~ 

As she arrived on the set of the music video for ‘Without Words,’ T'Pring was discomforted to see the familiar face of the prying Reporter Nero. 

"Your presence here is unwarranted," T'Pring informed him as he passed. "Disturbance of the filming is unnecessary at this crucial time." 

"I know that the photograph isn't of you, Lady T'Pring," he said, following her. "I intend to discover the identity of the mysterious girl. And there’s no law against me interviewing actors, as long as they’re not performing, so there's no way that you can get rid of me." 

T'Pring did not grant him a response, as Reporter Nero was not an individual who deserve to have his wishes granted. While she did not approve of the close relationship between Kirk and Spock, the revelation of Kirk's identity would not only give Spock no reason to entertain the notion of being with her, but it would also inadvertently disappoint him and leave him with the most unsettling emotions, ones that T’Pring did not wish upon any Vulcan. Spock had believed her when she had informed him that a feigned relationship and fledging bond between them would simply be beneficial to their image. While there was truth in such an assumption, the rest of the truth lied in her inevitable growing attachment to Spock. He was intelligent, prodigious, sympathetic, and unprejudiced. It was an unusual combination of characteristics, one which would make him a suitable mate to both humans and Vulcans. T'Pring knew that Spock was more than a logical choice of a mate. 

However, her wish to warn him of Reporter Nero's persistent plans disappeared with her first glance in Spock’s direction. Covered in fallen leaves, he was standing in close proximity to Kirk. Kirk's hands were carefully removing leaves from his shoulders. A smile adorned her lips, and Spock held a raised eyebrow in response. T'Pring prevented dismay from overcoming her, instead approaching them with a masked expression. Kirk noticed her as she went to stand by Spock's side, and her eyes because visible guarded. Spock appeared to notice, turning to face T'Pring. 

"I congratulate you on your satisfactory performance," she said coldly, indicating the closeness between the two. "Your flawless acting holds a natural air." 

Kirk's mouth was set in a firm grimace. Her anger at T'Pring's newfound relationship with Spock was apparent. However, as she was a human female, Kirk released no pheromones to support T'Pring's undoubtedly true conclusion. To T'Pring, Kirk's jealousy was not an indicator, that T’Pring needed to end her own proximity to Spock. Instead, T'Pring skimmed her index and middle finger over Spock's wrist, feeling his unpleasant astonishment at her action bristling under his skin. On Vulcan, it would not be appropriate, as it would be a breach of public decency. On Earth, it was no such thing. However, T'Pring knew that Kirk was aware of the significance behind the act. As T'Pring had predicted, Kirk made an excuse to leave, leaving the two Vulcans alone in each other's presence. 

"Your actions are unacceptable," Spock snapped as soon as they were alone. 

"You have proven to me that you are capable of acting," T'Pring pointed out. "The comfort of your interaction with Kirk for the a scene in her music video attests to that. You are thus able to create the appearance of a fake intimacy between us. If it is convincing, I will grant you with important some important information that you would appreciate to have." 

"My interactions with Kirk, which you witnessed, were not a fake appearance," Spock growled. "Acting is not necessary in her presence. In addition, I do not require any sort of information from you." 

Without waiting for her response, Spock left T'Pring unaccompanied. The hollow feeling in her side led her to a decision: she would not warn Spock of the goals of Reporter Nero. 

~ 

"Here we go, kids," James T. Kirk's uncle said, approaching Christine and the few members of the fanclub, who were outside of the Star offices at the moment. "This is Pavel's face wash, and this is McCoy's razor." 

"You couldn't have gotten a hold of any of Spock's things, Mister Kirk?" Christine asked in disappointment, not joining in with the swooning at the StarKid member's personal belongings that was going on around her. 

"How would you have expected me to get a hand on any of his things?" Frank asked in frustration. "You of all people, Miss Chapel, should know how secretive the damn Vulcan is. I do have some personal information about them, though." 

"What it is?" Christine asked excitedly. 

"Spock and Jim are currently filming the music video for my nephew's solo album piece 'Without Words,’" he whispered. "And what's more, Spock will be filming it in a school uniform." 

Christine couldn't help but let out an involuntary squeak. Spock's dressed as an awkward high schooler? Just the thought of it made her heart melt. 

"Maybe this is just because one of them in my nephew, but I can't seem to notice why y'all love the StarKid boys so much," Frank told them thoughtfully. "They just seem like regular gentlemen. Surely they're not the only ones capable of stealing your hearts." 

"If only you knew the Legend of StarKid, Mister Kirk, then you would understand," Christine said in disbelief, unable to understand how Frank, even as a middle-aged man, could dismiss their charm so easily. "Our young men are far from ordinary gentlemen." 

"I'd like to hear this Legend of StarKid," Frank confessed. "What makes them so great?" 

"Well, let's start with Len," Christine began, launching into her educational mode. "We all bear witness to the constant frown on his face, but it's obvious that on the inside, he's a softy. One time, when he was driving past a group of men harassing a young woman, he approached them and almost beat all of them to death. You can lay it off as common courtesy, but it wasn't a fair fight. There were seventeen of them, and they all ended up on the ground, groaning in pain. I know for a fact that it's his fatherly instinct. He has a young daughter in Georgia, you know, whom he must miss so much. My heart just hurts thinking about them. 

"Pasha may seem like a cuddly Russian teddy bear, and he is one, but that’s only one side of him. Before he left Russia to study at Juilliard, his parents had been planning an engagement for him to one of the descendants of Nicholas II of Russia, who was the country's last tsar. At the end of the twenty second century, it had been proven that one of his daughters was proven to have survived the family's massacre and fled to France, where she spent the rest of her days under a fake aristocratic title. Her descendants live happily as respected people to this day. Pasha didn't care much for a potential arranged marriage, though, which was probably one of the reasons why he ran away to the United States. Frankly, it's her loss but our gain!" 

"What about Spock?" Frank asked curiously. 

"Spock has the darkest past. There're a lot of secrets surrounding his birth. He was born on Vulcan to the famous Maestro Sarek, but no one knows who his mother is, or that she divorced Sarek and left to live on Earth, taking Spock with her, before she disowned him and sent him back to Vulcan to live with his father. Rumour has it that she is a glamorous, famous Vulcan lady, much like her ex-husband and son, but no one knows who or where she is, and no one dares ask Spock. No one even knows his real date of birth, since it's not information that has ever been disclosed. He just has an official birthday date, which has been set by President Sulu in his rising fame. People say that even the members of StarKid, his closest companions, celebrate the official day instead of the real one." 

~ 

Despite spending a majority of his adolescence and adult life on Earth, Spock had chosen the Vulcan Way over the one of humans. Vulcan biology overruled the human one both physiologically and mentally. In addition, neither the public nor his closest friends knew the truth of his human heritage. Since Spock was indeed Vulcan, the date of his birth held no importance to him and no importance to the Vulcan people. He had been aware that it was his date of birth throughout the day, similarly to the way he was aware of the particular shade of blue of Jen's eyes, or the way they looked when they were aimed at him, widened to almost extreme proportions, justifying his choice of alias for her. It was only when Spock received a video transmission from his father on his PADD that Spock was forced to think about the significance of the day. 

"Peace and long life, Father," Spock said, greeting him with a _ta'al_. 

"Greetings, Spock," his father responded. "I hope you are well." 

Sarek's face had aged since Spock last saw it, during a transmission three years ago. Creases appeared on his face, where they once did not exist. Silver hair had almost completely replaced the black. His perpetually passive expression, however, was recognisable. 

"I am well, Father," Spock responded, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It was an embarrassment to speak with his father in such a manner. However, his human heritage, combined with the influences of Terran ways, was unavoidable: sometimes purging his voice of emotion proved too difficult a task. "What is the reason behind your call?" 

"I wish to congratulate you on the date of your birth," his father said, shocking Spock. 

"Having lived twenty four Terran years is not an accomplishment," Spock pointed out. "Moreover, the date holds no significance to me, as I am Vulcan. In addition, it is not the day of my birth on my home planet. If I were inclined to celebrate my date of birth, it would be the anniversary by the standards of the Vulcan planet. Your congratulations are unnecessary." 

"I made the assumption that Terran ways had altered your view of the significance of the anniversary of one's birth," Sarek said apologetically. 

"Your assumption is incorrect. Even after my relocation to Earth, the date of my birth was never celebrated." The implication of his mother's forgetfulness is left unsaid. 

"My gift to you is as unnecessary as my congratulations, and yet, I can only request that you accept it nonetheless," Sarek told him. "It is due to arrive in a package at your home by the end of the Terran day." 

"I will accept your gift," Spock told him. "However, do not concern yourself with contacting me or endeavouring me to gift me on the day of my birth. It will never be of need." 

"Very well, my son," Sarek said, offering a _ta'al_ in farewell. "Live long and prosper." 

After returning the farewell, Spock cut the transmission with a heavy feeling in his limbs and side. 

~ 

Jen spent the rest of the day on set, avoiding Spock, ergo avoiding T'Pring's wrath. She spent it with Gary, instead, who told her all about the shit he experienced in the last two years, during which he had practically lived on the street. Like Bones often did, Gary took her mind off of things, and it was relieving to just laugh or maybe empathise with someone else, instead of drowning in her own problems and self-pity. 

"Well, Jimmy, you're all famous now," Gary said wistfully. "I think I'll want an autograph from you." 

"Where do you want it?" Jen asked. "I'm telling you right away: I don't sign on body parts." 

"Nah, don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to sign my ass again," he said, waving her off. Jen almost gulped. Ass? _Again_? Fucking Christ. "Just my shoe." 

He pulled it off, handing it to Jen along with a sharpie. She signed it, using the 'J. T. Kirk' signature that Bones had created for her, praying to God that Gary didn’t know Jim's well enough to forge it if necessary, which would make it easy for him to tell that this wasn’t the signature that Jim had last used. He didn't seem to catch anything unusual, but he did eye her own shoes curiously. 

As shooting was over for the day, Jen went to go change, leaving Gary behind. It was only after about ten seconds of walking that she realised what Gary must have noticed about her shoes: her foot size was only two thirds of Jim's. 

She raced back to where she left Gary, but she realised that she was too late. He was already talking to Nero, that slimy Romulan reporter, who constantly fished around for more details about the rumours that turned out to be true. She approached warily. Her eyes met Gary's, and she anticipated the moment that he would tell the truth Reporter Nero, and it would all be over. 

"Jim was my best friend, and it's been amazing to talk to him again after so long, despite the fact that our lives are so drastically different now," Gary told him, still watching Jen. "He's a talented, crazy, awesome guy. But most of all, he's a great friend, and an understanding and accepting human being." 

Reporter Nero walked away, looking disappointed with the lack of gossip (see: bullshit) that Gary provided. When he was out of earshot, Gary turned to face her. 

"Gary," she said softly to prevent her voice from breaking. 

"Jen," he told her, a small smile playing on his lips. "I can't believe I couldn't tell the difference between my best friend and his sister. It was only the shoe size that gave you away." 

"Yeah, I figured," she muttered. "I'm sorry for lying to you, especially after what you just did." 

"It's not a problem, Jen," Gary said. "I know you, and I know your brother even better, and I firmly believe that you wouldn't be pretending to be him if it weren’t for something important. You don't have to explain yourself or the situation to me. I'm leaving to Starfleet soon, and I won't have the opportunity to involve myself in any of this. I wasn't one for gossip, anyways. You don't have to worry about me spilling your secret." 

"Thank you, Gary," Jen said sincerely. "You’re right: it _is_ really important to me. By the way, I haven't ditched Starfleet completely. I'll be coming back, so don't you worry." 

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, embracing her unexpectedly. His head rested on her shoulder, and he whispered, "I like you very much, Jennifer T. Kirk, and I wish you all the best." 

And then he broke away and walked away from her, with one last wave and smile over his shoulder. She stood there or a few moments, happy that she happened to come across a great person today, before finally going to change. 

After she left the locker room and school building, she saw Spock getting into his hover car, with T'Pring following him into the passenger seat. Jen's eyes met T’Pring’s, and the possessive look in the latter’s eyes was clear. Jen turned away, feeling hollow, knowing better than to approach Spock right now. 

She was about to go hail a cab to get back to their suite, when Bones pulled up in a hover car of his own, getting out and approaching her with a rare smile. 

"I've come to pick up an always annoying, sometimes idiotic, and very _special_ guy, if you know what I mean," he told her. 

"I didn't know you had a hover car, Bones," Jen commented. "I would probably be excited to ride in it, if you hadn't insulted me just now." 

"Spock's not the only one to have a fancy car," Bones told her. "The rest of us just don't flaunt it by taking our own vehicles to go to group conventions." 

"How did you know I'd need to be picked up?" Jen asked, getting into the passenger seat. 

"Call it my sixth sense: Jim, in need of my help," he told her, turning on the hover car's electric engine. "What would you have done without me, I wonder? Accidentally stepped in front of a moving cab instead of getting into it? I'm you life saver, darlin'." 

"I don't appreciate my survival skills being ridiculed," she said in amusement, almost missing Spock's eyes in the car’s rearview mirror. They watched her as she passed. 

~ 

"McCoy has yet to learn of Kirk's identity?" T'Pring asked, her eyes following the ex-doctor's vehicle as it moved past them. "I surmise that the knowledge would have a great impact on their relationship." 

"It is none of my concern," Spock said absently, looking away from Jen, who sat in the passenger seat next to McCoy. 

"McCoy is a heterosexual male, is he not?" T'Pring asked. 

"His sexual orientation is neither your concern, nor the basis of their interaction," Spock informed her. "Your judgemental assumptions are not taken into consideration." 

"Very well," T'Pring said, turning to face her. "Spock, I require nourishment, and food supply has shortened in my place of residence. I request that you take me to a restaurant for Italian cuisine on the end of First Street. 

Without a word, Spock changed his route. However, at that moment, he received an incoming call from his mother. 

"Computer, answer call privately," Spock said. The call was automatically transferred from the vehicle's Bluetooth system to his earphone device. 

_"Spock, hello,"_ she greeted him with warmth in her voice. 

"Greetings, Lady Grayson," he replied. "Is there a reason behind your call?" 

"There is," she confirmed. "Can we meet at the seafood place near your home? It's the restaurant we met in before. You'll see what's going in, when you get there." 

"Very well," he responded, cutting the transmission. Shortly after, he arrived at the Italian restaurant that T'Pring had requested. 

"I apologise, but I cannot accompany you to dinner," he said completely unapologetically from his window as T'Pring left his vehicle. "I am required elsewhere." 

Too shocked by his words, T'Pring did not respond. Spock took her silence as his queue to leave and drove to his scheduled appointment with his mother. As he drove in silence, he fought the hope that attempted to overwhelm him. His mother had not remembered or congratulated him on the anniversary of his birth for the past ten years. Spock knew that it was illogical to wish such an unnecessary thing. However, birthdays held cultural significance to his mother's people, so it would make sense if the birthday of her own son would be of personal value. 

When he arrived at the restaurant, however, Spock knew that his useless hope had been to no avail. Amanda sat at a table with a collection of her staff. A news reporter approached Spock, as soon as he entered the dining hall. 

"Mister Spock, we heard that you'll be collaborating with Lady Grayson," he said, holding up a recording device. "What led you to that decision? I would be happy to interview the two of you.” 

"I apologise, but I am unable to agree to the interview at this time," Spock responded through gritted teeth, already turning to go. "Personal reasons of great urgency take priority over this unscheduled dinner." 

Questions and shouts followed him, as he all but fled the room, unable to remain calm in the presence of Lady Amanda Grayson. Spock could not help but blame himself for assuming that she had wishes to celebrate this day with him, as mother and son. As reiterated by many wise human beings, "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me both." At the moment, Spock could only agree. He should have taken her lack of congratulations over the transmission as an evidence of his unfounded hopes. 

~ 

When Jen returned home, she was almost unsurprised to find that Frank had returned, once again claiming her room. She didn't mind it that much, since the guy was turning out to be alright. She didn’t mind letting him enjoy his time here, before Jim came back and kicked him out in two seconds flat. 

She couldn't help but get angry, though, when Frank told her that he had accidentally opened a package intended for Spock. She berated him about touching anything in their flat that wasn’t strictly his, collected the enormous package, and dragged it to their room. 

Jen knew that just putting it down and telling Spock about it when he returned was the best course of action, but curiosity got the better of her. The box was huge and unbelievably heavy, and Jen couldn’t help but wonder what it held inside. She opened the box slowly, removing the protective styrofoam to reveal a beautiful, antique record player, the likes of which she had never seen before. It was the whole deal: an engraved wooden box and metal bell horn. Jen's eyes skimmed over Spock's collection of records, which he could now play not only from his compact record player, but from this old thing, too. Its age and extravagance must have made it priceless. 

A letter was attached from a Sarek of Vulcan. 

_"Happy birthday, my son. Despite the illogic of congratulations and gifts, or the lack of such a practice among the Vulcan people, I wish to place value upon this day. This record player is a Terran possession owned by your mother's ancestors in the twentieth century. Because she had no use for it, she gifted it to me when we first joined in matrimony. I now give it to you in hopes that it will find a purpose it your life, and that it will forever facilitate the flow of music that you have collected your entire life. Live long and prosper."_

Jen almost couldn't believe her eyes. Was it really Spock's birthday today? No one had told her; StarKid wasn't planning a party; fans weren't erupting in birthday chants outside of Star offices. But the gift had been from his father, who would undoubtedly know the date of Spock's birthday better than anyone, so she didn’t feel the need to doubt its legitimacy. She only hoped that it hadn't come in late, and that she'd still have the chance to wish Spock a happy birthday, no matter how illogical he would find it. 

She found Chekov lounging on the couch, reading a (Russian, obviously) novel. 

"Pasha, is anything important going on today?” she asked nonchalantly. “Something no one has told me about?" 

"I do not think so," he said thoughtfully after a moment. "Why? Is something supposed to?" 

"Well, I just read somewhere that it was Spock's birthday today," she said, hinting at the partial truth. "That's not true, is it?" 

"Where did you read that?" he asked confused. "We celebrated his birthday earlier in the year. Practically the whole country joined in, sending him heaps and piles of fan mail." 

"It must have been some discredited forum," she muttered, wondering why Spock would have an official fake birthday, which is what it looked like. "Speaking of Spock, do you know where he is?" 

"He said that he would stay in the studio until late at night, working," Chekov told her. Jen nodded in thanks, making her way back to their room, thinking of a good plan and a suitable birthday present. 

She didn't want to dig into why Spock hid his real birthday from the world, since it could lead to her scratching at his old wounds. However, she couldn’t help but slowly put the pieces of the story of Lady Amanda Grayson together. Jen was almost convinced that she was Spock’s mother. First of all, there was the resemblance of their eyes in the photograph. Second, it was the way she asked about him when Jen had run into her in the wrong studio at the Terran Music Festival. And now, Sarek had written that the record player, a Terran artefact, had come from Spock's mother side of the family. 

Obviously, the probably accurate conclusion that Amanda Grayson was Spock's mother was slightly unsettling, since that would mean that Spock was half human. From the way she had never heard it or read about it anywhere, Jen took it to be private, secret knowledge. And this meant that the identity of his mother was a secret from the world, too. It also explained Spock's often expressive emotions, which lay closer to the surface within Spock than in most Vulcans. She didn't mind in the least. In fact, Jen was sure that his half human side contributed to the fact that he was such a perfect guy, with an incredible brain, witty sense of humour, and compassionate heart. She didn't give a shit that he was only half-Vulcan, but it made her sad that he hid the truth from the world. It meant that Spock believed that someone would care, but not in the good way. 

Jen didn't have much to give him for his birthday. Dismayed, she searched around through her things, looking at different trinkets before throwing them aside. They were obviously not something Spock would appreciate. Eventually, she came across the autographed photo of Amanda Grayson, which the woman had handed her at the festival. 

Jen sat back on her haunches, looking at it. The fact that Spock hid his relationship with Grayson signified some kind of unpleasant secret that Jen knew that she shouldn't try to uncover. Maybe his relationship with her wasn't particularly great, and Jen would be of most help if she just left it alone. But Spock had had her CD in his room with a photo of them in his youth, so it might have meant that he was still her supporter, or still in touch with her, which would probably allow him to appreciate the signed photo just a little bit. 

She grabbed it decisively, heading for the door of their suite. She would ask Spock a little bit about her, first, Jen decided, before giving him the photo, just in case. 

When she arrived at the office, she headed for the practice rooms, where she knew she would find Spock, composing or rehearsing. However, as she walked down the corridor, she saw none other than Lady Grayson heading down the opposite hallway, presumably to see Spock. Jen hid behind a wall to avoid being seen, instead watching as Grayson knocked on a practice room door. Spock stepped out into the hallway, watching her intently. Jen hid her head behind the wall, too, instead simply listening to their conversation. 

"I can't believe you could embarrass me in front of my staff at the dinner like that," she reprimanded him coldly. "You completely humiliated me. Can't you just accept my offer like a normal person instead of being as stubborn as your father?" 

"You are no longer afraid of the nature of our relationship becoming evident to the public?" Spock asked, sounding even colder than her. 

"No, I no longer am," she countered. "I don't have anything to lose when my son is as grown up and as successful as you. Why are _you_ afraid of admitting it? You know that I need you more than ever to do this collaboration with me and gain me Federation-wide attention. I can't do it without you, and I don't want to have anyone else." 

"You wish me to recreate a piece composed by the man you loved, while said man was the cause of my abandonment," Spock responded, his voice taunting. "My answer is no. Why is my decision so difficult for you to comprehend, Lady Grayson? Was this man not the one who was more important to you than me?" 

"Don't sneer at me like that, Spock," she told him. "He was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. His love was the purest and most precious in my entire lifetime. Don't you dare mock it." 

"It may have been the most precious love in your life, but it became the most miserable and cruel thing in mine," Spock retorted. Jen could hear his footsteps, but he halted in his place after Grayson spoke again in desperation. 

"I gave birth to you, Spock. Isn't that enough? Because of you, because I gave birth to you, I lost that love. Yes, it was terrible for you when I left you, but it was just as bad for me, since having a child made me lose him. Do the collaboration with me, and help me keep that love that I lost because of you as a memory." 

As silence overtook them, Jen tried to wrap her head around everything that she had just heard. It seemed absolutely impossible, and yet… 

_“Oh dear,” Jen mumbles, as she sees Spock trying to shake his body of the growing allergic reaction. “Did you eat something with seaweed, soy, or lemongrass? Or maybe something Vulcan?”_

_Spock looked at her with a renewed pain in his expressive eyes. “If you are able to remember the causes of my allergic reactions, why cannot my mother?”_

This woman did not know even the most basic things about her son. 

"If you wished to take credit for my birth, you should have remembered its date," Spock told her softly before walking away, exiting the building through the nearest door. 

"Was it today?" Grayson whispered to herself, and Jen almost recoiled in disgust. As the woman's back was to her, Jen was able to slink past, following Spock out of the same exit. What she saw, however, made her stop in her tracks before she could reach him. 

He was slumped against the wall a short distance away. His bravado, coldness, and impeccable posture was completely forgotten, as if the level of emotional trauma that he was experiencing made it impossible to stand up straight. He made no sound, but the streetlights illuminated his cheeks. They were wet. 

Jen's own star was crying in the darkness, she had no idea what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never mind, _this_ is the last chapter that I wrote. Still in need of a beta! And ugh, I wish more people wanted to read this... Is it the writing? Or is it the fact that Jim/Jen is a girl? And if it's my writing, ack, I really want someone to help me improve! I guess the only other way is to write as much as possible.


	9. Chapter 9

From her place in the shadows, Jen stared at Spock as he cried silently. His shoulders shook, but no sound escaped him. Jen felt herself pulled toward him with the need to comfort, to take him into her arms and soften the emotional blow that had reduced him to this state, to absorb all of his pain. However, she figured that letting him know that someone had witnessed him breaking down like that, even if that someone was a friend, would only work to further his embarrassment, discomfort, and disappointment in himself. No matter how painful it was for her to step back and say nothing, it would be even more painful for Spock if she stepped forward. She knew it wasn’t her place to do that. 

After a few minutes of indulging himself in finally expressing his emotions, Spock visibly collected himself and began to walk back towards the building the way he had come from. Jen made herself as invisible as possible by moving farther away from the corner of the building and pressing herself to the wall. Her gaze followed him as Spock passed, trying to see if he was at all alright. His facial expressions had smoothed, but it was likely due to his superb control: he had closed the can of worms that were feelings, and now he was going to suffer in silence and isolation. Even if she couldn’t make her presence known, Jen couldn’t have that. 

She followed him as silently as possible into the building and crept down the hallway. Spock did promise to Chekov that he would stay at the studio late into the evening, so her best bet was that he was in a recording room, working on a new composition. When she reached it, she carefully peered into the glass window of the room, praying that Spock wasn’t looking up at that moment. Sure enough, he was bent over the keyboard, looking down, and his ears were hidden by a set of large headphones. There was a slight furrow between his elegant eyebrows, one that he wore whenever Jen said something incredibly illogical and human. Now, it appeared because of the undivided attention that he was giving to his work. Jen watched, mesmerised by how much of himself he gave to music. 

Spock alternated between playing and writing, stopping to drink water only while his right hand was still scribbling notes. After about ten minutes, the bottle that Spock reached for was empty. He eyed it with a flicker of annoyance as he set it down, and Jen suddenly knew what she needed to do next. Overall, her plan to surprise Spock on his birthday had failed: his mother’s autograph definitely wouldn’t be appreciated, and Jen couldn’t even offer a semblance of comfort. However, supplying Spock with more water was be a no-brainer. 

As quietly as possible, Jen moved down the hallway away from the recording room, dashed outside, and hurried to the closest convenience store, which was just in sight across the street from Star Agency offices. Purchasing a pack of standard sized water bottles, she had trouble not tripping over her own feet as she ran back to where poor Spock was waiting, parched and unhappy. 

Getting the water into the room would be difficult, and it would create more of a hassle than if she simply left it in front of the glass door for Spock to notice when he looked up (and Jen hoped he did, because otherwise her efforts would be a waste). Sure enough, the pack of water bottles soon caught Spock’s eye. His fingers stilled atop the keyboard as he stared at the pack in puzzlement. Satisfied that her work was successful, Jen raced towards the end of the hallway, where she hid behind the corner of the wall. Thankfully, when Spock opened the door to retrieve the bottles, he did not go further than a sweeping gaze across the hallway of his recording room into investigating the identity of his water supplier. Jen breathed a sigh of relief. 

Jen lingered around the corner of the hallway, wondering if she could risk sneaking a look at Spock again and guess if he needed anything else. As she finally gathered her wits to sneak down the corridor again, the lights on the ceiling began flickering. 

_“Light battery at five percent,”_ intoned the computer from a nearby computer console. _“Replace battery now._

Jen risked a look at Spock again, only to see that his eyebrows were again bushed together, expressing his dissatisfaction at his environment. However, instead of moving to leave the room to do anything about the dying battery, he flicked on the second lamp within the recording room. 

In any building with a centralised computer system, the lights were always charged with the computer’s main power. If there were a problem with the charging of the light battery, that meant that there was a problem with the computer system. And Jen knew her ways around computers. 

She found the nearest computer console, engraved in the wall at the end of the hallway, thankfully far enough away from Spock’s recording room that even he, a Vulcan, wouldn’t be able to hear her whispering. 

“Computer, state problem,” she ordered quietly. 

_“New power source required in the engineering room to power light system,”_ it replied. _“Computer unable to provide power to light system independently.”_

“Why not?” Jen asked, puzzled. 

_“Light systems naturally detached from computer’s power source,”_ it explained. _“Light systems require the power of replenished nickel cadmium batteries.”_

“That sounds very twenty-second-century. Quite archaic.” A trip to the convenience store for newly charged solar batteries, then. 

In no time, Jen had a pack of NiCd batteries in hand and was trying to find her way to the engineering room in the dark; the lights had already died. When she found it, it didn’t take long to install the batteries and get them chugging power throughout the light systems in the entire building. After finishing that, she bent over one of the computer consoles and reprogrammed the computer’s signal for dying batteries. The computer had barely given any notice when the lights had started dying, and Jen wanted to change that. 

“Seems like I’m getting so much work done today,” she said to herself. “Wonder what else Spock needs?” 

“Tea would be appreciated,” said Spock from behind her, making Jen jump out of her own skin and whirl around, bumping into the computer console she was just working with. He stood in the doorway with his hands folded behind his back, watching her surprise in obvious amusement. “I am unsurprised that you are the one behind this. What pushed you to come to my assistance in secret?” 

“Oh, um, I opened the package that arrived for you today from your dad,” Jen confessed, hoping that this would be better to reveal than the incident with his mom. “Happy birthday, Spock. I wanted to do something special, but instead got stuck with running errands, too scared to speak up.” 

“It is indeed the anniversary of my birth by the Terran calendar,” Spock confirmed. “As you must have realised, it has remained hidden from the public and most of my acquaintances for personal reasons and my much-needed privacy. If you would please keep it that way, I would be very grateful.” 

“Oh, no, of course,” Jen rushed to say. “I would never just tell someone. I’m sorry; you probably didn’t want me or anyone to acknowledge it: a, because you’re Vulcan, and b, because you don’t want the press or fans to find out. I’m sorry if the stunts that I pulled were a hassle for you.” 

Spock regarded her with a slight admiration that made Jen blush. “It appears as if you are capable of anticipating my views regarding different circumstances to almost a one hundred percent accuracy. However, today I am not exasperated with your company, but relieved.” 

~ 

Frank was disappointed with how boring the StarKid boys were in comparison to the tall tales told about them. McCoy looked more like the worrier and the intervener, and Chekov looked perpetually hungry, as if he hadn’t been fed his entire adolescence, which wasn’t a sign of great wealth. 

“Doctor McCoy,” Frank began, sauntering up to the doctor as he drank coffee with a frown on his face, “did you get into many fights as a kid?” 

“I think I was the one to pull my friend out of them,” the man responded gruffly. “Fighting isn’t my style. I prefer to convince the aggressors that they’re as dumb as a sack o’ hammers and send them on their merry way. But I suppose I roughhoused when I was young, just like any other boy my age. Why do you ask?” 

Frank shook his head, leaving McCoy be. Either the rumours were fake, or he wasn’t going to get a peep out of the man. Instead, he approached Chekov, who was shoving finger foods into his face. 

“Heard you were betrothed to a girl from a royal bloodline,” he prompted him. “How’s that turning out for you?” 

“Very well, thank you,” Pavel responded, his words muffled by his chewing. “We are still in touch. She is very pleased with her new engagement to the Prince of Sweden.” 

Frank nodded in absent agreement, but sat up quickly as soon as he realised what Chekov was saying. His past hadn’t been a rumour then? If that were the case, there was still room for the secret about Spock’s birth to be true. 

~ 

“I still want to do something for your birthday, though,” Jen amended, as she and Spock strolled back to their flat in the crisp evening air, for once not in a hurry. 

“That is completely unnecessary,” he assured looking, nevertheless looking over at her with a detectable fondness. If he thought that would change her mind, he couldn’t be further from wrong. 

“I insist,” she repeated. “Let me recreate the celebration you had on your fake birthday.” 

“It would be dishonest to say that I am amicable to the idea of renting a gymnasium to accommodate fifteen thousand people or inviting fifteen well-known entertainers for the evening,” Spock mused. “It was quite an exhausting experience that I do not wish to repeat. In addition, I do not believe that you have either the money or the contacts to hire the New Yorkian media to oversee such a celebration.” 

“Knowing you, that must have been a shitty day,” Jen muttered in sympathy. Spock hummed in agreement. “Well, today doesn’t have to be big. It can start with food. Plomeek soup, right?” 

“Indeed,” Spock replied, sounding pleased that Jen knew something about Vulcan cuisine. “However, if you wish for us to consume it together at a dinner venue, I must unfortunately disappoint you. The nearest Vulcan dining place is not within walking distance, and it is closed from twenty two hundred to oh six hundred the next morning.” 

Jen glanced at her watch: it was almost midnight now. “Damn. Small presents, then?” 

She pulled Spock along, looking eagerly for any kind of shop that felt right for the occasion. She skipped the priceless boutiques that were still open, eventually coming to a stop at the closest stationery store. Probably something that attracted school girls, it looked like the perfect place where Jen could ruffle Spock’s feathers in a not-too-mean way. 

“This is so _cute_!” she yelled back at him, running through the isles of adorable notebooks, pencils, pens, knapsacks, PADD cases, tv show merchandise, and more. Spock followed at a distance, looking entranced with the idea of this whole place. 

Stumbling through one of the isles, Jen noticed a basket of stickers. She was about to walk past, but the StarKid logo caught her eye. She kneeled down, inspecting it. 

The first dozen of packs of stickers were all of Spock, Bones, and Chekov. 

They were all caricatures, but from what Jen could see, they were spot on. The level of fluffiness of Chekov’s hair was blown out of proportion, and he was frolicking in a field, surrounded by baby animals. Bones, with a huge frown on his face, was in a white coat and with an enormous hypo needle in his hand. It made Jen shiver; those hypos were no laughing matter. 

Spock’s ears looked completely out of proportion to his head and tiny body, sticking out almost like Dobby’s. The artist had nailed the pointy eyebrows and the adorable furrow between them, as well as the slightly pouted lips, and Jen knew that she had to get them. 

“Spock!” she hissed, trying not to disturb their rare moment of peace by loudly yelling of the most well-known names in the city. “Look at these! They’re fucking _adorable_!” 

Spock looked over Jen’s shoulder, pursing his lips in a mixture of amusement and distaste. “You wish to purchase these?” 

“Only if you want them,” Jen amended, immediately feeling disappointed. Spock would never need crap like this, no matter how much it made her senses tingle from the loveliness of it all. 

Spock must have caught on her dismay and taken pity on her, plucking the stickers out of her hands and walking to the checkout area. 

“Oh, aren’t these great?” the cashier asked as she scanned them, half to herself. She didn’t bother with manners; she hadn’t looked up to see who was buying. “The Spock ones always go out first.” 

Jen looked over at Spock with a grin, and the tell-tale flush of green on the tips of his ears and around his cheekbones did nothing to hide his embarrassment. She tried biting back a giggle, but it still escaped her. She skipped out of the store, high on the knowledge that she could so obviously trigger emotional reactions within Spock. 

Spock let himself be led to a deserted park playground, and Jen took advantage of his quiet compliance. When she could take the risk, she occasionally even pulled on his shirt sleeve in an attempt to get him to catch up with her, and to get as close to him as she could let herself. Touching his skin was out of the question, however. He would know, and it would break the precious _thing_ that hovered between them. 

They meandered through the park, until one of the paths took them directly to the steps of their building. Jen hung back, lifting her face to the sky and breathing in a grateful sigh for this time with Spock without any interruptions. Spock lingered as well, looking at Jen as if she were a code to decipher. 

“The day is almost over, and I still didn’t do anything important for you,” Jen sighed, looking away from Spock. “I tried, and yet…” 

“No,” Spock responded forcefully, making Jen snap her gaze back to his face. He approached her swiftly, coming to stand with less than a foot’s distance between them. “It was not nothing. Your presence was the most… enjoyable part of my day. Thanks to you, I was able to forget its significance. Without you, it would have been too long for me to bear.” 

“If you want, I have an idea of how to help you forget for the next five minutes,” Jen said quickly, unthinking, and threw her arms around his shoulders before she could change her mind. 

Spock stepped back from the impact, letting out a noise of almost perfectly concealed surprise. Jen could feel the stiffness in his shoulders at first, the rigidness of his spine underneath her light touch, the hardening muscles in his back. However, after what seemed to be several infinities, Spock forced himself to relax and gently returned Jen’s hug. 

“Since today is the day you were born, Spock of Vulcan, it cannot ever be truly an insignificant day,” she whispered into his shoulder, pressing her nose as close to it as she dared. “Thank you for being alive.” 

Spock did not respond, so Jen pulled back slightly, both of her hands still on Spock’s upper arms. He looked dazed, starstrucked, as if he were warring with the evidence that his brain was providing. _Yes, Spock,_ Jen thought with a smile. _I_ did _just say that. Mother, wherever you are now, I know you may be listening, so let’s just get one thing straight: Spock deserves love more than anyone else I know. Please send him all the warm comfort that you can._

Jen smiled softly at Spock again, squeezing his arms one last time before finally letting go. “It’s officially over now. No more birthday commotion.” And she walked back inside, leaving Spock there, staring straight ahead and looking more lost than she had ever seen him. 

~ 

Leonard turned around in frustration, facing his back to the scene he just witnessed. Jim holding Spock so tightly that the man could barely breathe. As if she would lose him if she would just let him go. 

From the balcony, he stormed back to his room. He didn’t know exactly what made him feel ridiculous about the whole thing, but he just knew that the whole situation was unsettling. Jim and Spock pulling each other’s pigtails like enamoured school girls, himself being too cowardly to confront Jim about his knowledge or feelings and resorting to watching her from above: he hated it all. 

As soon as he started making his way to the first floor or their flat, Jim burst into the room, full of the life and energy that was absent during her moment with Spock. 

“Look what Spock and I bought today, guys!” she said in childish glee, throwing a pack of what looked like stickers towards him, Chekov, and Scotty, who was once again loitering in their kitchen with a less than inconspicuous bottle of brandy. Leonard inspected them with a frown, smiling slightly when he recognised himself and his friends on the stickers. 

“Which one do you like best, Jim?” Chekov asked, already peeling off a sticker of himself and plastering it onto the coffee mug in his hand. “I wish we had one of yours for more comparison.” 

“I like… Bones’ I guess,” she said with a shrug, smiling in his direction. He smiled back irrationally, pleased that at least in something he was her first choice. “His anger is adorable, especially since we know that he’s a teddy bear on the inside. But, you know, Pasha’s is cute, too.” 

Spock took that moment to make an appearance behind Jim at the door to their flat. Jim turned around with a knowing, comfortable smile, as if she had waited for a long time for him to seek her out. Leonard’s heart ached. 

He wasn’t the first choice in what mattered. 

~ 

“Spock, Spock, Spock, Sp-” Scott continued to reiterate his name, even as his mouth made unintentional contact with Spock’s chest. Spock stepped back, refraining from succumbing to a human instinct of crossing his arms. 

“You have my attention, Montgomery,” he assured the man. 

“You need to help me do something about those fools,” Jen’s manager muttered, looking around them as if checking to see if anyone could overhear. However, everyone had already reported for sleep tonight but the two of them. 

“About whom are you speaking, precisely?” Spock asked, hoping that his suspicions about Scott’s choice of conversation were proven wrong. 

“Jen and McCoy, obviously.” Oh, alas, his suspicions had been correct. “You have to keep them away from each other.” 

“Why?” Spock asked bluntly. 

“I don’t want them to suddenly start makin’ out in front of millions of cameras,” Scott explained slowly, as if it should be completely obvious to Spock. Frankly, it was not. 

“What has furthered you to believe that your hypothesis is supported?” Spock asked, as calmly as possible. 

“You hadn’t walked in by then, but Jen showed her preference for McCoy’s sticker - over Chekov’s, and especially yours,” urged the Scotsman. 

“That is hardly evidence for romantic attachment, Montgomery,” Spock replied, attempting to make his logic as clear as possible. 

“Spock, I’m sure you know less about human crushes than I do,” Scott assured him half-heartedly, slapping Spock’s back. “After all, I’m suffering from one right now. The point still stands that I want you to be there to rescue either Jen or McCoy if need be - or StarKid, from complete and utter embarrassment, if it comes to that.” 

“Cannot we simply allow two people to naturally progress into a romantic relationship and give them the freedom to be happy with one another?” Spock asked, only half-referring to the relationship that Scott saw between Jen and McCoy. 

“Please, I’d like to draw as little attention to Jen as possible,” Scott whispered, his eyes darkening with worry. Spock shook himself; the man was right. Jen’s circumstances were more important to consider than Spock’s - _feelings_. 

“I acquiesce,” Spock told him. “Anything for Jen.” 

~ 

Interestingly, Spock was the one who filled the space between them as they drove to the filming location for the last day of shooting. 

“The unnecessary dramatisation of the parting between the two lovers will be an obviously unrealistic portrayal of the relationship between two Vulcans,” Spock complained tonelessly. “I apologise for the inaccuracies that will plague the debut of your personal video. 

“Even though you’re one of the members, I’m sure it’s not Vulcans who are the biggest fans of StarKid,” Jen assured him, trying for a placating smile. “Also, I’m sure that the directors are right - it will emphasise the pain of your breakup to the extreme, and that’s the important part, since it’s the whole point of the song.” 

“I only desire for my piece to be portrayed through the emotional turmoils that I myself imagined while composing it,” Spock bristled. 

“You know, I’m sure if you actually told anyone what you were thinking in that big head of yours, someone might have listened and tried to make it how you’d like it,” Jen pointed out. “How _would_ you like the video to be done, Spock?” 

To that, Spock said nothing; he was still refusing to tell Jen about what had sparked him to write ‘Without Words.’ Jen sighed; Spock’s stubbornness on the matters of the heart was no surprise. 

Once at the scene, Jen found herself roaming around with nothing to do in the time before the filming began. She was one of the few people who didn’t require excessive makeup to appear in front of the camera; Spock and T’Pring were the star-crossed couple of the video, and they made more screentime than she, a distant and lonesome voice in the background. Eventually, she came upon T’Pring’s own tent, outside of which T’Pring was sitting, pampered from all sides by three Orion makeup artists and her Vulcan personal assistant. 

Taking a moment to look at her, Jen recognised that T’Pring’s looks were very unconventional. Her beauty and magical touch were known throughout the galaxy, sure, but if one stopped to look closely, the word ‘poised’ came to mind more than any adjective describing her beauty. Her ever present stoic yet content expression reminded Jen of the enigma that was the _Mona Lisa_. Her high cheek bones, much like Spock’s, looked like perfectly molded porcelain. Her hair was done up in her usual fashion, with layers of buns sitting like a crown on her head and held together with diamond studs. Instead of drawing similarities between her and the human women who also preferred to decorate themselves with jewelry, the pins outlined her eccentricity and alien refinement that no other woman in the galaxy, at _least_ , could hope to pull off. 

Like many others, no doubt, Jen was envious of T’Pring’s air of easy elegance, as well as the accessories that facilitated it. Jen would not be surprised if the stones that looked like diamonds were actually dilithium crystals, meant to highlight her status and wealth. A girl like Jen rarely ever had the opportunity to express herself through government-protected precious stones. What she did have, though, was something more valuable to the heart than any crystalline element could ever be. 

She took Spock’s star hairpiece out of her bag, holding it with reverence. It felt too big for her hands, and it seemed like her head and hair would barely hold it. However, she had no intention of wearing it anytime soon. Hopefully, until she could proudly show it off as an asset to more feminine apparel, it would be enough to know that Spock had chosen it while thinking of her. 

“Why are you in possession of my personal belongings?” came the haughty voice of T’Pring, who was suddenly standing right in front of her. 

“What are you talking about?” Jen gaped, stepping back. “It’s mine.” 

“Indeed?” T’Pring asked scornfully, her mouth barely twitching into a smirk. “A female lover, perhaps? Unless I am mistaken, and you are unopposed to wearing female accessories, possibly with other feminine garments, away from the public eye.” 

“I bought it for my sister,” Jen grumbled, before it was too late and a news story about how James T. Kirk wore drag on weekends showed up in the news. 

“Mister James T. Kirk has a sister?” T’Pring asked with feigned curiosity. “Are the physical characteristics of your face similar? Your own do appear to be quite feminine.” 

“A small amount of pink product would do well with the coloration of his face,” suggested the sleazy Vulcan stylist who always stayed by T’Pring’s side. T’Pring raised an eyebrow and held out her hand, into which the Vulcan, Stonn, placed a lipstick set. Jen stepped back from them quickly, but T’Pring grabbed her arm with a vice-like grip and a terrifying tilt of her hand, as if she were planning just what to do with her. 

“ _Stop_ ,” commanded a voice strictly, and before Jen knew it, T’Pring’s pervasive hands were off of her. Bones had ripped the Vulcans’ hand away from her, but he needed Chekov’s help to hold her back from lunging at any one of them in a burst of anger. However, T’Pring only looked shaken, as if she could not believe that she was just caught almost performing a traumatising act on someone. She haughtily turned around and left, as if she were indignant that her favourite toy were refusing to cooperate. Jen was left wondering what the hell happened, and what exactly was behind Bones’ overly concerned expression. 

~ 

The anger that flared within T’Pring felt like a fire that needed to be put out, but she simply could not quelch it. Like with everything else that the human beings adored, she vehemently detested the lost, mewling, pathetic kitten that was James T. Kirk. Not only did she stand between everything that T’Pring hoped to achieve with Spock, but she also unleashed a feeling of unstoppable rage within her. Revealing herself to the public in her current state would undoubtedly raise questions. 

How she wished that she could punish Kirk for her continuous interference and deplorable existence. However, the had to admit to herself that Spock only remained in her clutches to save the human girl from T’Pring. Feeding her to the falcons, so to speak, would chase Spock away, and then her attempts would have been for naught. 

For the time being, T’Pring would have to be satisfied with intimidating Kirk away from Spock as much as possible. 

Kirk’s esteem for Spock was detectable whenever she was aware of his presence. Now, Kirk stood on the periphery of the field of vision of the cameras, watching as Spock prepared himself for shooting the final scene. The veneration mixed with a tangible longingly radiated off of her, and it seemed as if she did not need to be touched as much as she needed to be understood. However, while most would turn to pity, Kirk’s emotional condition fueled T’Pring’s bold plan for the few last moments on screen. 

T’Pring and Spock acted out their final scene, which ended with a Vulcan kiss between the two new lovers. Spock had not allowed the addition of a human kiss, but he had agreed to stage the light touch of fingers, with the assumption that their hands would remain immobile and their shields would remain up. T’Pring had no intention of following the set boundaries, as no one but her and Spock would be aware of what she was doing. She lowered her shields and broadcasted her mind to Spock’s through the skin-to-skin contact between her wrist and the tips of his fingers. 

_Do you recall first time we did this?_ she thought to him, and he glared at her with surprise and disdain. 

_Both then and now, we were merely making an appearance for the public,” Spock pointed out. _I fail to see where you interest in our pretenses originates._ _

At that moment, the T’Pring’s eyes caught the obvious dissatisfaction of the director. He opened his mouth, and T’Pring acted before she had the chance to fully formulate her decision to do so. 

_We must act before we are forced to engage in another dreadful take,_ she thought, and pulled Spock towards her to connect their lips in a human kiss. 

Spock’s eyes widened imperceptibly, but they were visible to T’Pring, even with their extreme proximity. She could feel his shock and desire to pull away reverberating through their touch, but T’Pring attempted to coax his mind to hers through soothing waves of reassurance that this is what he should truly desire. It did not work, as Spock’s want to pull away tripled. However, he did not, as the human kiss had successfully stopped the director from ending this take. 

The loud “Cut!” finally broke the physical bond, and Spock recoiled from T’Pring in abject horror. 

“How dare you-” he began, but T’Pring cut him off with a raised hand. 

“A simple matter of obligation to my performance in front of the directing crew,” T’Pring lied, knowing perfectly well that Spock must have felt her true emotions during their touch. “However, if you wish to suspect something more, I will certainly refrain from stopping you.” 

“Your ability to step over the boundaries I have set is even more profound and unwelcome than Kirk’s,” Spock growled. 

“Do not compare me to that despicable human,” T’Pring warned him, turning her back to the Vulcan man. The fact that he continued to think of the girl, who currently stared at them with large, rapidly blinking eyes, even during a kiss that they shared was most disappointing. 

She was about to enter her own dressing van, when she noticed something flash in her peripheral vision. She turned to see Kirk’s star pin, lying abandoned in a pile of leaves close to StarKid’s dressing room tent. Kirk may have intentionally left it behind to prevent herself from being seen with a stereotypically female accessory, but it was unlikely. The reverence with which she had held it pointed to its emotional significance in Kirk’s life. 

T’Pring picked it up and brushed away the dust. Quite a stunning accessory, it would go well with the white gown she had brought with her to Earth. 

~ 

Sulu had decided to treat the entire cast and crew to a celebratory evening this time. To kill time, Jen helped Uhura pack up the materials in her personal tent and the tent itself, much to the surprise of the other stars, who were never inclined to help with things like that. When she was taking off her school blazer, she suddenly remembered what she had kept in one of its pockets earlier in the day. Nervously, she felt down the blazer and the shirt and pants she was wearing, finding nothing. She searched her memory to figure out what she had done with it after her scene with T’Pring; certainly she had put it back with her own belongings? 

Ignoring everyone’s concerned looks, she rushed in the direction of T’Pring’s tent. Looking on the ground around it, she found nothing. Jen was afraid of entering the tent itself, intruding upon T’Pring, and causing another scene, but she ducked into the tent anyways. Thankfully, T’Pring wasn’t inside, and it seemed as if most of her belongings were yet to be moved into the performer’s van. Her assortment of hair accessories still lied on the table closest to Jen, and her eyes shifted over it. She had enough pins to fill a few small baskets, but Jen’s was bigger than any of them. She couldn’t see it anywhere, and surely it was too big to hide among T’Pring’s own collection. Dejectedly, she left the tent and returned to her own van, where Scotty’s was already herding StarKid into it. 

Once at the club, Jen kept wandering around, wondering how she would face Spock. Was honesty the best option in this case, or was ignorance, pretending that nothing was amiss? 

“Somethin’ wrong, Jim?” Bones asked, appearing out of nowhere. He must have sensed her worry, the way he was so keen on doing at all times. 

“I lost something important,” she told him glumly, not wanting to describe what it was. “It’s kind of hard to explain… Either way, it’s something meaningful and sentimental, and I can’t bear the idea of never finding it.” 

“I can help you look for it after this annoying party’s over, if you’d like,” Bones offered, “or just take you where you need to go and leave you to search for it, if you don’t care to tell me what it is.” 

“That would be great, thanks,” Jen said, trying to express her gratitude in a smile. “If I’m up to it tonight.” 

Just as Scotty appeared at out nowhere and began pulling Bones away, Jen turned to Spock, sensing him as if his gaze was tangible. He frowned just slightly and posed a silent question with a tilt of his head. She snapped her head away from him; sharing her burdens with him would only increase, not lessen them. 

~ 

“Mm _mm_ \- look at them,” Scott said around a mouthful of his drink, jostling Spock’s shoulder as he pointed in Jen’s direction. McCoy stood with barely a centimetre of space between them, and one hand had a comfortable grip on her shoulder. “Go interrupt them.” 

“I am not in favor of intruding upon the progression of their relationship,” Spock told Scott for a fifth time. “If you suspect it of being discovered and questioned, by all means, interfere yourself.” 

Scott began to do just that, making his way through the crowd towards the pair. When he was successful in ridding Jen of McCoy’s company, Jen turned toward Spock, unexpectedly making eye contact with him despite the sea of mobile bodies that hid most of his body from her view. Their locked eyes did nothing to cure her of her dispirited expression. Instead, she quickly looked away, as if it hurt to lose McCoy’s company and even more to meet Spock’s eyes. Spock intended to turn away, but before he had the opportunity, he saw T’Pring’s steady approach to Jen. 

He watched their interaction with wary, knowing that nothing kind would happen to Jen thanks to T’Pring’s harsh words. Even from afar, Spock was able to detect scorn in T’Pring’s direction. Jen’s expressive hand gestures signified a mixture of fury and distress, but they abruptly ended with a stream of calm words from the Vulcan. It was not long after that Jen backed slowly away, and then retreated from the scene entirely. 

Furious at Jen’s obvious distress, Spock all but ran towards T’Pring, who looked at him smugly as soon as she recognised Spock’s approach. “What has just transpired?” 

“James T. Kirk’s interest may bring her attempt at façade to a quick end,” she responded cryptically. With a tilt of her head, Spock saw the other side of her head, and on top it, what must have caused Jen’s actions: Spock’s pin. 

“I do not remember you ever adorning such an accessory, T’Pring,” Spock pointed out, wondering if T’Pring would attest to her actions. 

“I assume that neither has Kirk,” T’Pring responded. “She accused me of taking this from her and demanded that I return it.” 

“Indeed?” Spock asked, illogically revelling in catching T’Pring in a lie. “That is because it is hers. Do you know its price?” 

“Obviously three dollars at most,” T’Pring attempted to scoff, nevertheless looking discomforted. “It is not made of any valuable material.” 

“You are incorrect,” Spock assured her, holding out his hand in expectation. “Its price is one hundred dollars, and it belongs to Jen Kirk. I demand you relinquish your hold on what does not belong to you.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I purchased it for her as a gift,” he stated, watching as her expression changed from one of self-satisfaction to dread. She removed if slowly and delicately from her hair, placing it in his waiting palm. “You are lucky that Vulcans are able to conceal the expression of their feelings. Otherwise, your embarrassment would be quite, or dare I say _painfully_ , obvious.” 

Without waiting for a reply, Spock left T’Pring, determined to confront the person who actually mattered. He found Jen sitting without any company at the bar, staring into the depths of her empty glass. 

“It has come to my attention that you have lost something important,” Spock said without introduction, sitting down on a stool next to Jen. She jumped, startled out of her morose reverie, but Spock was happy to note that she visibly relaxed at his presence. 

“Well, I did, but I decided not to look for it,” she sighed, smiling sadly. Shock delayed Spock’s response to five point four three seconds, which was long enough for the ‘awkward silence’ to become almost audible. 

“I do not understand,” he expressed truthfully. “You do not appear happy with this decision.” 

“It’s not something I deserve,” she explained. “I hope the person that finds it will find more happiness and luck with it than I did.” 

Spock clenched his jaw to prevent his human side from verbally lashing out, and he gripped the hairpiece tighter within his pocket. “If that is your decision, so be it.” Reluctantly, Spock had to admit that it was not a pleasant feeling to know that the hairpiece meant so little to Jen that she could so easily part with it. 

After two point one four minutes of disappointing silence brooding between them, Chekov bounded over to Jen, shaking her arm in an effort to gain her attention. 

“T’Pring and some of her friends are setting up an impromptu karaoke session,” he told her excitedly, startling Jen out of her grim musing by capturing her attention with the Vulcan female’s name. “She says to invite you onstage as the first honorary guest, as tonight is a celebration in your honour. 

“You do not have to partake in this activity, Jim,” Spock assured her, thankful to his Vulcan capabilities for not making a mistake by saying Jen’s private name. 

“No, Spock, they’re right,” she countered, standing from her barstool with a stretch and tired groan. “It wouldn’t be like me to pass up on the chance to prove my talents, and I don’t mean any disrespect or underappreciation for T’Pring and her party.” 

Spock knew that since T’Pring was behind Jen’s invitation to the stage, foreseen but inevitable unfortunate circumstances were bound to arrive. However, he also did not want to stop her from doing what she felt was right for the group and what it represented, no matter how much Spock, as StarKid’s leader, assured her that it was unnecessary. 

As Spock headed over to the center of the bar, where the StarKid ensemble and much of T’Pring’s crew was enjoying themselves at several large tables, Jen clamoured onstage, taking the microphone tentatively from a reassuring Chekov. 

“Hey, guys,” Jen began nervously, continuously adjusting the microphone and squeezing it tightly in her hands. “I was told that this facility’s karaoke station would have any song I wanted, so I’m going with the original ‘Red and Black’ from the musical _Les Misérables_.” 

As the robust beginning of the soundtrack began to play, Spock almost smiled in his confirmed suspicions. Jen, who was still an amateur singer, had an original repertoire mainly composed of musical soundtracks. Even though she couldn’t confirm it the crowd of people who expected her knowledge of music to be much more vast, Spock deduced that this was the genre of music that she was invested in enough to perform it flawlessly onstage. 

“ _At Notre Dame, the sections are prepared!_ ” she sang in the voice of one character. 

“ _At Rue du Bac, they’re straining at the leash!_ ” she echoed in a lower one. 

“ _Students, workers, everyone: there’s a river on the run,_ ” she repeated in the first, 

“ _Like the flowing of the tide, Paris coming to our side._

“ _The time is near…_ ” she whispered in the voice of Enjorlas, one of the leading French Revolutionaries, whom Spock recognised from his childhood endorsement of the musical. Encouraging whoops and cheers exploded in short bursts while she paused, visibly giving her confidence. 

“ _So near, it’s stirring the blood in their veins!_

“ _And yet, beware… _”__

“ _Don’t let the wine go to your brains!_

“ _For the army we fight is a dangerous foe,_

“ _With the men and the arms that we never can match._

“ _It is easy to sit here and swat them like flies,_

“ _But the national guard will be harder to catch._

“ _We need a sign_

“ _To rally the people, to call them to arms, and to bring them in line!_

“ _Marius, what’s wrong with you today?_ ” she suddenly asked, her voice immediately softening with the stunning precision of introducing a new character. 

“ _You look as if you’ve seen a ghost._

“ _Some wine and say what’s going on!_ ” Jen responded in the hearty, amused voice of Grantaire. 

“ _A ghost you say?”_ Jen mused in Marius’ voice. _“A ghost maybe._

“ _She was just like a ghost to me._

“ _One minute there, then she was gone!_

“ _I am agog! I am aghast! _” Jen cried, placing an affronted hand on her chest in imitation of Grantaire. A real smile bloomed on her face, as she lost herself in the story of the piece.__

“ _Is Marius in love at last?_

“ _I have never seen him ‘ooh’ and ‘aah.’_

“ _We talk of battles to be won,_

“ _And here he comes like Don Juan._

“ _It’s better than an opera!_ ” 

Jen paused, swaying to the trumpeteering in the soundtrack. Her small audience erupted in applause, and she performed in a sweeping bow, her gesturing hand touching the ground in a symbol of mock-gratitude mixed with genuine thanks. However, when she straightened out her body once again to prepare to sing, she never had the chance to open her mouth. 

A bucket of water poured down from the canopy, crashing over her head before she had the chance to look up, before her smile had the chance to vanish. 

There was a moment of silence, during which everyone could only stare as Jen gaped and looked wildly around her, trying to push the wetness out of her hair by brushing her fingers relentlessly through it. Spock quickly scanned the room around him. T’Pring was not among the members of the audience, and he scolded himself for not taking closer note of that when he first approached the stage to watch Jen’s performance. 

Chekov was the first to react. Undeterred by the immobility of the rest of the group, he raced up the steps on the side of the stage, caught Jen’s shoulder in a half-hug, and continued the piece. 

“ _It is time for us all to decide who we are,_ ” he sang as Enjorlas. 

“ _Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now?_

“ _Have you asked of yourselves what’s the price you might pay?_

“ _Is it simply a game for rich young boys to play?_

“ _The color of the world is changing, day by day._ ” 

Jen, who was staring at Chekov in uncomprehending shock, slowly started to smile. 

“ _Red - the blood of angry men!_ ” he bellowed, smiling reassuringly at her. 

“ _Black - the dark of ages past!_

“ _Red - a world about to dawn!_

“ _Black - the night that ends at last!_ ” 

The power of the music that they created together stunned the entire room, where everyone but the two of them were afraid of moving even a centimetre, as if afraid to disrupt the awe-inspiring performance that was taking place in front of them. Suddenly, Spock wanted a part of their invigorating energy. Even shivering and entirely soaked, Jen looked happier than Spock had yet seen her onstage. Thinking of Jen’s distressing state made Spock frown at his own inconsideration, wondering why he had not thought to offer her help before now. Removing a tablecloth from an unoccupied table, he made his way onto the stage, where he wrapped it tightly around Jen and held her shoulders tightly from the side opposite of Chekov. Spock knew the verses that were approaching in the piece, and he would gratefully contribute as the third member of Jen’s choir. Spock’s care to the woman and lack thereof to his own voice, which was still under the dangers of overuse, was worth the effort: before continuing to sing, she looked up at him rapt smile. 

“ _Had you been there tonight, you might know how it feels_

“ _To be struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight!_

“ _Had you been there tonight, you might also have known_

“ _How the world may be changed in just one burst of light!_

“ _And what was right seems wrong,_

“ _And what was wrong seems right._ ” 

“ _Red!_ ” Spock picked up from her as Grantaire. 

“ _I feel my soul on fire!_ ” she responded as Marius, raising a surprised eyebrow of both surprise and eyebrow. Spock knew that she was hearing his voice for the first time. 

“ _Black!_ ” 

“ _My world if she’s not there!_ ” 

“ _Red!_ ” 

“ _The color of desire!_ ” 

“ _Black!_ ” 

“ _The color of despair!_ ” 

“ _Marius, you’re no longer a child!_ ” Chekov continued his part, barely deterred by the way McCoy pushed him aside to stand by Jen, after begrudgingly making it onstage as well. 

“ _I do not doubt you mean it well, but now there is a higher call._

“ _Who cares about your lonely soul? We strive towards a larger goal._

“ _Our little lives don’t count at all._ ” 

“ _Red - the blood of angry men!_ ” the four of them sang in unison. Jen threw her arms around both Spock’s and McCoy’s shoulders in an imitation of the revolutionary comradery that the characters of the musical must have had, and Spock did his best not to stiffen too obviously under the touch and weight of her arm. 

“ _Black - the night of ages past!_ ” 

“ _Red - a world about to dawn!_ ” 

“ _Black - the night that ends at last!_ ” 

The audience exploded in applause, and Jen pulled the all of StarKid into a floor-sweeping bow. Nyota and Scott were at the forefront of the commotion below. Uhura was smiling with well-concealed pride, while the cheering Scotsman was red in the face, more so than usual, from the passion that had overtaken him. 

Looking in the direction of the entrance onto the stage, Spock could see T’Pring where she had not been attentively present during the performance before. Undeniable fury was present in her face, undoubtedly at the scene of elation and success that she had been trying to avoid by almost inducing a terrible catastrophe in the middle of Kirk’s performance. When their eyes met, Spock allowed allowed himself to indulge in an unmistakable smirk to let her know that her attempts to embarrass Jen, while unappreciated, would also never be rewarding, as long as Spock was there to stop her. 

On their way home, under the safe escort of StarKid’s van, Jen fell graciously asleep. Despite the rescue that StarKid provided her while she stood onstage and watched water flow from her pant legs, unsure of what to do, she was worn out from the incident. Scott had provided her with a change of clothing that was available for all StarKid members in the van in case of emergencies. Spock wished to use the reticence that Jen’s sleep offered to reflect on how to best rid StarKid of T’Pring’s influences, but a conversation between Chekov and McCoy prevented him from submerging himself in his own thoughts. 

“Jim had wanted to look for something earlier this evening, had he not?” the Russian asked with unmistakable concern. 

“He changed his mind,” McCoy answered gruffly. “Poor kid. I don’t know what it was that he lost, but he looked even worse when he decided not to go back for it.” 

“He must have thought he wouldn’t be able to find it,” Chekov mused. Spock resisted the human urge to shift minutely in his seat. If Jen truly wished to retrieve the hairpiece, she could have easily made Spock aware of the issue. He did, indeed, have an easy solution to the problem; the pin still lied in his pocket. He was exasperated with Jen for falling prey to nonsensical emotionality and leading Spock to believe something untrue, and with himself for not ‘reading’ her character well enough to see into her actual feelings. Now, returning the hairpiece to Jen plainly was not an option he could take whilst preserving his dignity as an honest Vulcan. He was also guilty of leading Jen astray by not making it clear that he knew the pin’s whereabouts, or the cause of her plight in the first place. Now, if he wished to return the pin to its owner, he needed to redeem his deceit with something even greater than the hairpiece itself. 

After StarKid once again arrived in its familiar New Yorkian neighbourhood, Spock decided to make his own way to Star Agency offices, and not without good reason. He was thankful to find Sulu’s recently created collection of Terran animal toys in an abandoned storage room. Most of them were incessant gifts from fans, who refused to acknowledge that neither Spock, McCoy, nor even Chekov required the company of these ‘stuffed’ inanimate creatures. For a moment, Spock was discouraged that no fans were invested enough in cultural diversity to gift him with animals resembling species found on Vulcan, but that did not majorly impede his plans; toy wolves and wild cats were quite abundant. 

The two plush toys he chose were both too large to hide in his constricting Terran coat, so he located a bag in which he could conceal them for his walk home. His main concern was hiding them from Jen’s eyes until his goals were accomplished, but luckily, his return home found her still asleep in the room they shared. Even as he turned on the dim light at his desk, she remained unconscious and untouched on the other side of the room, her arms flared out around her as she lied in a pile of pillows and blankets. Satisfied with the secrecy of his ploy, Spock turned to face the two animals sitting on top of his desk. It was as if they were waiting for him patiently to begin the operation. 

“Prepare to take part in the creation of the first _sa-tehlat_ in both Terran and Vulcan history,” he warned them. 

~ 

The gentle sunlight streaming out from the window on the wall to her right nudged Jen into wakefulness. She stretched widely without opening her eyes, instead rolling onto her stomach and burrowing her face between two pillows. She waited for the painful embarrassment of last night to hit her, and she didn’t want to face the world with an obvious expression of shame on her face. As relieved as she was to have her friends, most notably Spock, come onstage to rescue her from the pit of humiliation that being soaked left her in, the shame hadn’t left her, even as she fell asleep on the car ride home. 

Thinking of Spock jerked Jen out of her self-pity, and she turned her face away from the pillows and in the direction of his bed. She cracked an eye open slowly, scared of how to face the world head-on after last night. 

The first thing that caught her eye wasn’t Spock, though, like he was every morning for the past few weeks. Instead, she was immediately forced to focus on the large stuffed animal toy that was regarding her calmly from only an arm’s distance away, and on her lost hairpin that casually clipped to one of its ears. 

Jen sat up slowly, regarding the unique plushie. It had the striped body of a tiger, with attentive eyes and perky whiskers. However, its fluffy tail, pointy ears, and long nose were both a contrasting grey, and they looked as if they belonged to a dog or wolf instead of a tiger. She finally looked towards the resting Spock, as she remembered the origins of his unexpected nickname. 

_A_ sa-tehlat _,_ Jen mused. _This must be me._ And since Spock was the only one with whom she shared this inside joke, he must have been the one to find the hairpin. He had known that she had lost it, and he had given her an out from revealing her dilemma when he had offered to help the night before. And Jen had screwed that up by telling him. albeit indirectly, that she didn’t want the one gift that he had given her. Jen had no idea how she would approach Spock to thank him. She would probably put off confronting him for as long as possible by just ignoring the matter altogether, until she learned how to put a lid on what she was feeling. 

Acknowledging the time that Spock must have taken to create spirit animal version of Jen made her clench her jaw down on a squeal of delight. She pulled the _sa-tehlat_ toward her and tried not to crush it as she hugged it tightly rolled around several times. Today was already looking up. 

At breakfast, Jen realised that maybe she shouldn’t have made that assumption so quickly. Her nose wouldn’t stop itching, and neither could her hand to reach for the tissues, that is. But Bones was right there, inspecting her with at least one eye at all times, and she was scared that her morning sniffles would transform into a full-blown cold and earn her even more attention from the doctor. 

After her first sneeze, all three men looked up at her with almost identical expressions of worry. Chekov looked as if something had happened to his favourite puppy; Bones frowned as if someone had poured vinegar into his drink; Spock raised his eyebrow to make a face that someone other than Jen wouldn’t be able to tell apart from the one he made for mild concern, or maybe disdain. Spock was the first to act; he immediately approached Jen with his untouched glass of water. He thrusted it into her hand, his eyebrows dark and menacing, and Jen had trouble both looking at him and looking away. 

“It appears as if your immune system is initiating an inflammatory response toward a foreign invader,” he told her. “If you would like, I can procure you with medicine that will help alleviate the symptoms of the ‘common cold.’” 

“I think I’m the doctor here,” Bones told him before Jen could even utter a word, shouldering Spock out of the way. He extended a steaming tea mug toward Jen’s free hand. “This will help sooth a sore throat. I’ll have some hypos ready if you need them.” 

Continuously baffled, Jen could only stare at Chekov, as he bounded back from the kitchen with a glass of orange juice in hand. 

“The Vitamin C in oranges helps boost the immune system,” he told her, warily looking at the other two drinks that Spock and Bones were thrusting at her. 

“Thank, guys,” Jen said slowly, trying to make sense of the situation, as she set down the glass of water and took the cup of tea instead, “but I’ll go with the hot drink for today.” 

Chekov looked absolutely crushed, and Spock’s mouth thinned out in obvious irritation. As Jen returned to the table, she could almost swear that Bones looked back at the other two men with pride. 

~ 

“Still no word from Mister Spock?” Amanda asked, hating the internal that Manager Sulu always put up at this line of questioning. 

“I’m working on it, Lady Grayson,” he assured her with a guilty smile, refusing to be talked into more details. “Spock, he’s… He’s a free spirit, as uptight as he is. I’ll do my best to convince him, but ma’am, you may consider the possibility of choosing another young star to work with you.” 

“I thank you for your concern, but that is absolutely not a possibility for me,” she told him, not having any idea how to make him understand without giving anything away. “If Spock refuses, I will abandon my plans for the single.” 

Sulu looked as if he wanted to interject at Amanda’s fixed mindset approach, but shooting a glare in his direction made him bite back his response. 

“Please, don’t bother Spock with my requests any longer,” she told Sulu, waving over her assistant that finally returned from the quick run to the nearest flower shop. “However, I would be very grateful if you passed these onto my son.” 

Sulu took one look at the bouquet water lilies before giving her another nervous, apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, I can’t take these to Spock. He has serious allergic reactions to the pollen of most Terran flora.” 

Amanda grimaced, cursing herself for her constantly poor timing. No matter how much she regretted it, she barely knew anything about her son, but she should have used their recent experiences to predict something as simple as allergies: Spock had a lot of them. It shouldn’t be difficult to make the assumption that anything that triggered a response in humans would lead to a worse one in Spock. Throwing the bouquet down on the table next to them, she leaned back slightly with the smallest sigh. 

“Without the flowers, then, let him know that I am thinking of him,” she pleaded. 

“Of course,” Sulu nodded, his discomfort palpable. “Spock’s personal disagreements are not the only issue. There is also the matter of copyright and ownership of the piece. In regards to the works of George Kirk, there are disagreements on who received the copyright ownership of his pieces after his death. I am sure it is in his will, but the knowledge did not become publicly announced. We will have to perform extensive research into these matters if performing ‘Alpha Quadrant’ is truly what you want.” 

“While Kirk’s private life remained hidden from the press and public, I knew him on a more personal level,” Amanda assured him. “I am acquainted with his children, whose identity I will not reveal because of their requests for privacy. I am sure they can point me in the right direction in terms of the legal matters of the piece.” 

It was always interesting for Amanda to observe the disconnect in Sulu’s face after revealing this information: he did not even begin to suspect that the Kirk Amanda had loved was the father of one of the new StarKid member working under the manager. However, it was better that way; it would be easier for everyone if her own relationship with the young James T. Kirk stayed private. 

It only took several hours for Amanda’s contacts to learn of the man who was currently living with StarKid, claiming to be James’ uncle Frank Kirk, the man Amanda only heard of from George on a few separate occasions. Because she had never met him, it was quite difficult for Amanda to ascertain that this was the man she was looking for after she was able to track him down and arrange a meeting with him at a local diner: he looked starkly different from his brother. 

“It’s quite an honour to meet you, Miss Amanda Grayson,” Frank assured her, gripping her hand firmly and shaking it gracelessly. “I’ve seen you all over the news recently. Does are meeting today have anything to do with that song that my brother George wrote so long ago?” 

“‘Alpha Quadrant’ is a piece that tethers me to George and his family, Mister Kirk,” Amanda assured him. “However, the questions I have for you today are unrelated to my intention of recreating the song as my single. But first, how can I ascertain that you are actually the brother of George Kirk that you claim to be?” 

“Well, you connected the dots from George Kirk to me, didn’t you?” Frank asked, chuckling, pulling out his wallet and ID cards. He obviously had no intention of bringing in his relationship with James T. Kirk. “Creating a fake ID card wouldn’t make it easier for you to track me down as George’s brother.” 

“Very well,” Amanda conceded. “Tell me, then, Mister Kirk: is James T. Kirk really George’s son?” 

~ 

T’Pring sat backstage on the sofa across from the StarKid members, dissatisfied with the turn of events. Instead of talk to her, Spock stared blankly ahead, occasionally pointing out how illogical it was to attempt to match his attire to the color of a green Terran citrus for the sake of synchronicity of a mobile phone commercial, since people should purchase items not by the visual pleasantness of an advertisement, but by the effectiveness of the product. McCoy took no interest in her, either, instead risking glances in James T. Kirk’s direction, when he assumed that no one was looking. However, Kirk ignored him for the sake of staring at Spock through the small bouquet of flowers that Sulu had thrust into her hand to enhance the lightness of the white attire she was wearing for her part of the photoshoot. T’Pring had to resist the urge to pull Kirk away and rattle her, tell her that Spock was not her romantic partner for her to find visually please, but she could not without being hypocritical: Spock was not T’Pring’s romantic partner, either, outside of their pretenses for everyone but themselves. It took a slightly uninteresting conversation with Chekov, who always seemed excited to talk with any being of a different gender, to pull her mind away from the half-human man that made her experience emotions she did not wish for. 

“I, like Spock, also do not like the color scheme,” Chekov told her. “It reminds me of all of the bananas I have already been forced to eat on set today.” 

“The colors are necessary to appeal to all members of your mass audience,” Sulu responded, appearing behind the group. “Spock, lime is a colour that is very ‘in’ in the fashion of today’s women, ranging from their twenties to their thirties. McCoy, your black attire is a reflection of the modern male trends. Chekov, yellow is a colour that is pleasing to children, and you’re the one wearing it, because it matches your facial features and really underlines your adolescent bubliness. Jim, the white you have represents your innocence and the pure image that you have in the group.” 

“Oh, I’m really not that innocent,” Kirk assured at Sulu’s retreating back in a peculiar tone of voice, causing the two human men to laugh. Spock, however, turned to look at her with an expression of both concern and discontentment. T’Pring immediately moved to find a seat next to the man, pulling at his arm to redirect his attention from Kirk to her. Her attempts to thwart Kirk’s performance the night before had not only failed, but has created a closer camaraderie between the human woman and Spock. T’Pring would not let her accompaniment of the group to today’s photoshoot result in the same consequences. 

“The color of your attire will inevitably attract the attention of many Terran females, even more so than usual,” T’Pring informed him. “It almost makes me admit to experiencing the human emotion of jealousy. James, is it not fortunate for me that Spock has chosen me as his partner, out of all of the people that admire him on this planet and others?” 

“I think Spock is the one who should consider himself lucky,” Kirk promised warmly, his grin almost reaching his eyes. Spock jerked his head in her direction, appearing astonished and completely surprised at Kirk’s words. T’Pring could also detect the emotion of betrayal that simmered under Spock’s skin, and the knowledge of Spock having such feelings due to Kirk made T’Pring feel as if her blood were heating up. 

“Especially with you always glaring and making faces like that,” Kirk amended quickly. “It makes it hard to approach you.” 

“Which of the unique colourations do you prefer, James T. Kirk?” T’Pring cut in, before Spock had the opportunity to question whether the human herself ever felt as if she could not approach him, or something similarly illogical. T’Pring gestured to the attires of the men. 

“Since I’m not five, I don’t have a favourite colour anymore, of course, but,” Kirk shrugged, “I like wearing black, I suppose.” 

While that received a raised eyebrow in intrigue from McCoy, it only deepened the furrow in Spock’s brow. Indeed, when Kirk excused herself to use the restroom, Spock waited until the rest of the group stood from the sofa to follow her. Bitter, T’Pring followed them. 

“I do not believe I have seen you wear black attire other than StarKid’s concert dress requirements,” T’Pring heard Spock say, as she came to the corner of a hallway, on the other side of which the two were conversing. “Out of the three colours that Leonard, Pavel, and I were forced to adorn, lime green is the one you choose to wear most often.” 

“Why are you worried about my fashion tastes, Spock?” Kirk asked, audibly confused and irritated. 

“Answer honestly - which colour do you prefer?” 

“God, why does it matter?” Kirk shot back, angry now. “And I already said black!” 

“I have deduced that that was your response solely as your responsibility to your façade as a male,” Spock explained in a low undertone. T’Pring took the risk of glancing around the corner of the wall. What she witnessed astonished her: Spock was flattening Kirk to the wall with one hand pressed tightly on one side of her head and his face approximately four centimetres from hers. “The truth is vital, Jennifer T. Kirk.” 

“I’ve heard white brings out my gorgeous smile,” Kirk responded with a hint of sarcastic tone in her voice, her glare a challenge. 

Spock flattened his lips in defeat, removed his hand from where it framed Kirk’s head and straightened himself from where he was leaning over her. “What a clever response,” he said indignantly. “Jennifer T. Kirk, you are skilled in avoiding answers.” 

As he strode away from Kirk and T’Pring, Kirk’s expression swiftly transformed from mockery to longing. With a sigh, she lumbered the rest of the distance down the hall and pushed her way into the men’s restroom. Determined, T’Pring followed her. Spock had looked at Kirk the way a Vulcan male would look at a mate: with analytical appreciation and slightly animalistic edge. T’Pring needed to interfere before he began to court her in more ouvert manners. 

When T’Pring pushed open the door of the men’s restroom, Kirk met her eyes in the mirror, appearing startled and nervous. 

“I have come to escort you into the correct bathroom, Kirk,” T’Pring informed her. 

“What?” Kirk asked, aghast, and turned around to face her. “This is the men’s.” 

“Indeed,” T’Pring responded plainly. “You belong in the women’s, _Jennifer_.” 

When Kirk refused to move or speak, T’Pring advanced toward her. “Jennifer T. Kirk, you are female. I know of you and your intentions, so it is illogical for you to follow through with your ruse in my presence. It is quite pathetic.” 

T’Pring gripped Kirk’s by the arms tightly and pulled her out of the bathroom, and the human woman followed without resistance. T’Pring dragged her back to the main studio floor, where Spock, McCoy, and Chekov stood, facing away from them. 

“I surmise that it has been interesting and entertaining for you to pretend to be male to receive a chance to spend more time with them,” she said bitterly. “Tell me, Kirk: which of their attires do you like best? Yellow, black, or lime?” 

Kirk looked too stricken to respond, so T’Pring shook her again. “In other words, for whom do you harbour romantic affections? Is it for Chekov? McCoy? Or _Spock_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jen and StarKid sing is one of my favorites, [Red and Black](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNrU1uMnB08).


End file.
